


The Sun's Going Down

by OverMyFreckledBody



Series: It Will Always Just Be Me [1]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-26
Updated: 2015-07-03
Packaged: 2018-02-27 02:06:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 21,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2674826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OverMyFreckledBody/pseuds/OverMyFreckledBody
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Despite being a creature of the night, Marco doesn’t want to hurt anyone, even willingly, so instead will often steal expired blood from hospitals in other nearby cities or take the bodies of recently killed animals.</p><p>That is, until multitudes of randomly killed animals start showing up on his back porch mysteriously.</p><p>******** DISCONTINUED. I HATE THIS AND WILL NEVER WORK ON IT AGAIN.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Kind of a Prologue, but Not Really

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Marco keeps running until the road falls out beneath him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Getting into the mindset of Marco, this chapter was too important to be a prologue, even if it is shorter than the rest of the chapters will be.
> 
> This originally was going to an extremely long prologue, but after doing some research, I realized with adding so many important characters and describing Marco's Sire, that it would have to be a short chapter.
> 
> Sorry if the writing style is a little wonky! I'll get into it as I go along.
> 
> EDIT: OKAY THIS SHIT IS REALLY BAD BUT IT GETS BETTER BECAUSE ITS MONTHS BETWEEN MY UPDATES, BUT ONCE I FINISH ILL GO BACK AND FIX THINGS  
> PLEASE NOTE THIS WHILE YOURE READING  
> THE CRINGE WILL BE BETTER THE MORE YOU READ, OKAY?
> 
> also in this chapter marco slightly genderphobic. remember that this is not the way to respond when people tell you they are genderfluid/agender/nonbianary/trans/genderless/etc  
> because their sex is not their gender- what matters is their gender, not their sex, unless youre looking for a one night stand with them or some shit, but seriously think about that okay  
> dont be an asshole

      He was running away again. It was actually a normal thing for him now, now that he could notice _them_. _They_ have always been able to see him, but for the most part ignored him for the ones of better tastes. He technically could always see _them_ too, but not like he could see them now. With their quickly dilating eyes, and smooth like honey words, little tips of teeth poking out from under their lips when they walked by certain types of people or just were hungry.

     Maybe he was just oblivious until now. Until he was attacked, that is.

     Call it a better form of observation, to notice the sudden significance.

     Whatever the case was, he still was not at all safe. Until he was out of their super sense ‘sights’ he was in danger. Why did it have to be a bloodsucking fiend that he was drunk enough to go home with? Why not just a normal person that would not pin him to a wall and have a sudden obsession with his neck instead of what he got? Now he had to run every time he was given more than just a glance by one of _them_. He knew. They knew he knew. That was reason enough to track him down.

 

* * *

 

     It was just a simple grocery trip this time. In the middle of the night. Despite being a fairly large male, that still spelled out murder in his fates. All he had needed was a couple eggs for a cake for his friend, Armin, whose birthday was only that tomorrow. He was hosting the party and refused to let the petite blonde bake a dessert for himself and could not, until now, find enough time, what with balancing writing and college work. Though, as he glanced behind him, about to look for some new flavor of snickers or something that Christa had told him about, he noticed a pair of pearly whites poking lower than they should have. He gulped, turning swiftly away to grab the rest of his supplies, but judging from the severe studying he felt being done unto his back, he was going to have to take the back alley to his apartment that night. Oh joy.

     Once everything was in the plastic bags that they belonged to and finally paid for, he slipped out, trying to be unforthcoming- even if he realized quite quickly that would not even have a dent on how well he was being tracked. It would be too dangerous for _them_ if he somehow convinced the already suspicious public of their existence. Too many people here did watch those TV shows about the supernatural and awkward love stories. Granted, as did he, but only up to the ending of the first season or so. It just… Reminded him too much of the reality that he was soon thrusted into.

     Though as he left the view of the windows, he quickly bolted around the corner of the building, trying to keep quiet and not get caught or bring even more attention to himself. However, it seemed that his shoes wanted a very different outcome as he dashed under the creaking, broken, wooden boards towards the alley way he had been forced to use a lot more lately. It was barely even a few minutes of trying to run the maze that was his escape course, but he soon found himself pushed to the ground, pastry making stuffs spilling everywhere onto the dirty ground, eggs thankfully not coming out of their carton.

     When he turned around to look behind him, he noticed his fall was not caused by the actions he originally thought. Yes, it was the Vampire that was chasing him as he thought, but there was a man behind him, wooden stake in hand, and breathing hard. He recognized this male from a couple bars he went to, often slinking in the corners. Probably just watching around for any identifiable qualities of _them_. Smart idea.

     Even if the random hero, whose face was hidden in the dull lighting, had an unexpected entrance, that’s not what surprised him the most. Right as the parasitic monster’s body was about to fall on him, it exploded into gold, dust-like sparkles, which just simply disappeared afterward, making him squeal slightly- and of course for only a moment, the stranger chuckling quietly at that before outstretching his hand, “Never seen one die before?”

     It took him a moment to connect the dots that he was being offered help, which he soon immediately took, nodding quickly, freckled cheeks blushing from light embarrassment, “First time, indeed.”

     Now that he could see him, he could see more features that he didn’t notice before. Fluffy, brown hair. Straight, pearly white teeth. Dazzling, grey orbs that looked like raging storm clouds. He was quite beautiful actually. “So, what’s your name, Savior?”

     The boy- he looked a little younger than himself actually- blinked, turning pink slightly at his words, obviously never being called something like that before, “Eren.”

     Deciding not to comment on how that name fit his looks, he also gave Eren his name, “Thank you Eren, I’m Marco.”

     Nodding, Eren then helped him out of the street, giving everything that twitched in the slightest a heavy glare, he walked him home, until Marco offered to let him in, to which he blushed again, rubbing the back of his head. “I don’t think I should. You really need to get that cake ready, if I heard you right.”

     “Ah, that’s alright. So, there a way I can repay you for saving me back there?” Marco asked, still standing in his doorway, leaning against the side.

     Shrugging slightly with that ever-present grin, Eren gave him a playful glance and handed him a small business card. “Call this if you need someone with a big stick or something and ask for Eren Jaeger. Trust me, I’ll be paid well enough.”

     Not quite a date, but at least it was helpful. In the end, he would at least have a friend to turn to about this stuff.

 

* * *

 

     That was how he met Eren, who he was quite surprised to see at Armin’s party, helping around when he showed up with the cake. They both ended up staring at each other for what was definitely more than a minute until Eren nodded, letting him in with a shout back to Armin, “Marco’s here, babe!”

     So, _that_ was the reason Armin was so much more happy lately. He had guesses, of course, but Marco didn’t have confirmation until now, especially when Armin came bolting around the corner, cheeks flushed as he smacked Eren’s arm, hissing at him quietly, but even Marco could tell he actually did not mind being called that at all, even in front of his friends, “Eren! He didn’t know!”

     Eren chuckled at Armin’s reaction, “Well, he does now, anyway.” Marco just grinned to himself, glad his friend was happy.

 

* * *

 

     It was a comforting week after that. If Marco so as noticed something strange and demonic, he would end up finding himself texting the number, which he found belonged to the owners- that he one day actually got to meet in person which was cool- Levi Ackerman, Hanji Zoë, and Erwin Smith.

     Levi, a man who, despite his short stature, did not have problems yelling the crap out of Marco when it turns out that several of the vampires that he had ‘sent’ Eren after were actually safe to be around- _“What?”_ \- and no longer picked up from him anymore, having the others do it instead, something that Marco had no problem silently agreeing to. The less he had to talk to those rude lips and cold glares, the happier he would be.

     Hanji, was something… Different. Marco was not quite sure of their sex and having just learned that they are actually genderless and preferred to go by neutral pronouns did not help him figure it out at all. It really did not matter too much with him, but it was a struggle to not ask sometimes. Gender complications- they also said gender was too much to bother with, a complication itself- aside, they were actually very entertaining to talk to, especially loving the topic of the supernatural. Every time they picked up when Marco called he always learned something new, even if he risked almost being caught several times. Eren always had to travel in the fastest way possible to Marco’s destination when it was Hanji telling him to go check it out, as he knew they tended to make the conversations go on forever.

     Lastly, Erwin. He was very tall, blonde, and to be perfectly honest- hunky. Marco was not one to keep the compliment dishing to a minimum, especially not inside his own mind where it did not matter or leave. Even with his clean shaven face, something that both he and Levi shared, he was very much male. Not only with his large and fantastical eyebrow game, but with the aura he constantly held around him, almost like a commander, he was very much masculine. Marco may have also checked him out a few times. It never hurts to look.

     Despite that saying, over the few times he was there, he had a feeling Erwin could tell and did purposeful things to tease him on it. Bending over to pick up things was not professional and Marco’s pants very much agreed.

     Though, as amusing as that was for Erwin- or at least Marco suspected- when Levi walked in the room, it immediately went out the window. Suspecting there was something between them, he stopped eyeing that fine tush, the times Erwin would rib him also decreasing as if they both came to a wordless agreement.

     Commander Hotness was off the market.

     So was Shorty McAngryPants, title thanks to Hanji, but Marco could not bring himself to care as much. Levi was just not his type. Screw him, but frigid and vulgar was not his cup of tea.

     Maybe it was just short people.

     But he never said that. Out loud.

 

* * *

 

     Marco honestly did not have an answer for how he got himself in these situations. Having to run for his life was not something he wanted to do on a daily basis. Especially not with having so much homework around this time. It was worse than before, now with them seeming to notice him at every corner. Having a part time job in the middle of the night was no longer looking as cool and helpful. Sometimes he could not even get to his phone and would have to try and fumble for it all the time.

     It was especially hard to call for help from Eren when Marco dropped his phone and the woman- oops sorry _thing_ \- chasing him _stomped_ on it with its extremely unnecessary heel.

     All he needed was to get home from his job when something had to go and change that for him. Marco had no idea who the thing tracking him down was. Between the glances he had caught of her before she went all ‘hungry’ on him, he was pretty sure that if he had ever seen her before- especially if he had met her personally- he would have remembered and recognized it now. Aside from its short, choppy, black hairstyle and petite size, it held this aura to her that seemed off putting and indistinguishable. It was also very fast in heels. Unnecessarily fast.

     Unfortunately for Marco, he found that instead of turning down the alley he meant to that would lead him to a public bar, he turned too early and was now in a dead end, the humanoid leech that had been following him catching up with ease, not even close to out of breath, a gigantic smirk on its face, voice coming out in a transfixing purr, something Marco found confusing, as females had never been this captivating to him before until now, “Did you lose your way, little rabbit?”

     What-

_Little?! I’m taller than her even with her heels! And rabbit-?_

     Whatever was going through his mind of course only could come out in a squeak as it lunged across the small- when did that happen- space separating them, effectively pinning him against the wall behind him, head smashing backwards, the world was now suddenly spinning and unfocused. He felt drunk, wanting to puke and he dimly thought to himself- _I didn’t even drink anything_ \- as she jerked his head to the side. It obviously was not to kill him through snapping his neck, but just to turn his head.

     Despite knowing he was about to die, Marco just could not figure out how to relearn the way to send functions to his hands or any part of his body, aside from the gasping that happened to be going on as she bit into the flesh, even if that was involuntary. Though, she pulled away after she made a her mark, leaving Marco to shudder at the tight grip that still held him, white noise a constant buzz in his head, "Bites like this won't go away, you know, Little Rabbit. Too deep, too deep."

     Again with the pet names. They didn't fit him at all.

     Leaning forward again to see his bite more, she gently nuzzled her nose against it, some of the beading liquid smearing across the tip. He shuddered, trying to strain against her secure hold on himself, he closed his eyes, trying to block out the bright lights of the the world he would soon be disconnected from. “You’re a pretty boy, you know that? I think I’ll let you live. However…” He twitched, feeling the slimy saliva fall off her tongue and _drip_ into his wound, the one that was pulsing out blood quite quickly now, “Wouldn’t you rather see the world from my angle?”

_‘My angle’...?_

     “Of course you would. You’re just quivering for it… Or is that fear still sown in your heart? Let me help you…” Her mesmerizing voice came quietly, in a whisper, as her mouth connected to his flesh once again, forcing a hiss from between his teeth. Yet, instead of pain, he felt a sting of small pleasure start to overcome his terror. He could feel her sucking through the crevice that she created, ichor pooling into her mouth and down her throat like being slurped through a straw. It honestly felt… Pleasing. If Marco thought about it, something he was starting to be able to do, it was almost like a harder hickey.

     It was easy, after that musing, to think of an ex boyfriend, as the purple bruisings were usually that man’s favorite, a fluttering noise falling between his no longer clenched teeth. As it spilled from his lips, he swore he could feel those pale lips curling in a smirk, before she pulled away and he could _see_ it, blood- _his_ blood- streaking from the sides of its upturned shape. Maneuvering his hands above his head to hold with one hand, she then brought her other to the wrist, using her sharp thumb nail to scrape into the skin, her own red plasma running down her forearm slowly. Though his fear was gone, he still knew he was trapped like this, looking up with eyes full of freight and just _waiting_ to be told what was going to happen next. Instead of telling him however, she moved her dirty cut to his own, fuller lips, pushing harshly into them, “Drink, Little Rabbit.”

     Despite the disgusting circumstances, Marco did as told, fearing for his life. He made mimics of her earlier actions, drinking from her gash as she cooed praises into his ear in puffs, mind vacantly wondering if this was how vampires had sex. It felt good earlier and she was obviously in much pleasure…

     “Now, this might hurt… Only until you bleed out. After that everything will be a lot better, trust me.” Which is what Marco did, that is until he processed the words, fearing crystals of a burnt whiskey shade widening as she grinned at his realization. He was going to be killed.

     Though, as much as he tried to suddenly fight back now, he knew he could not do much anymore. His neck was draining out and as if that wasn't enough- she drove her sharp nails into his chest, making Marco cry out in agony, the feeling much worse than he expected. Not only did it hurt, much more than just veins and skin being punctured, but his organs too, somehow. He could feel as those impressively strong nails slid against _bone_. Eyes bulging and breaths coming in heavy breaths, even whimpers, he could feel his own nails trying desperately to claw and scratch at the hand that was still sinking further into his breast. Blood, somehow was flooding his mouth, making him splutter, pools that were once full of life going glassy. How, how was it that he could live from this? Was she just teasing him earlier?

     As is hearing these questions, she pulled out, wiping her hands over the thin material that would soon be drenched in his life force. It seems she drank enough from before when she was _practically feasting from his neck_. Smiling deviously at the suffering that was obvious on his choking face, she brushed some dark hairs from his face, whispering almost lovingly, "Say 'Hello, Nifa' I'm your sire."

     Even if Marco wanted to- which he of course did _not_ \- he was still in unbelievable pain, choking and hacking on blood that seemed to continuously pour from his mouth and wounds in a torrent, and barely being held up by her death grip on his possibly bruised wrists. Instead of trying, Marco just spit more of the ever present crimson plasma out, wishing he could laugh when it landed in a spray all over his soon to be ‘Sire’s’ blouse. What could she really do to him in anger? Kill him?

     However, she really was not as disgusted at his action as he thought she would be. Instead of trying to cause him more pain like the sadist that he had the notion that she was, she laughed, shoving a finger in his mouth then removing it and sucking the thin coat of red off with a moan of appreciation. Trying to retch did him no good, only making his blood and saliva mixture come out faster in a more alarming rate. This sicking show in front of him was only creating him more pain making Marco guess that she was a sadist after all. He had just stopped trying to think of her as an it a while ago. It was too hard, especially now.

     Beginning to see black spots in his vision between blinks, breathing still heavy and unbalanced, Marco felt himself begin to slip, going limper in the woman’s hold. It was simple enough to know that he only had a few more minutes of life before he would fade away like a flame with little oxygen around. While the major discomfort in his throat and chest was still very pronounced, it was beginning to ease down a little, dulling out. _I must be dying_ , Marco fathomed idly to himself, knowing he would be laughing at the concept if he wasn’t slumping against the wall like he was, his own fluids drizzling down the corner of his barely agape mouth.

     As strange as it was to think it, Marco could not help noticing that a woman’s hold is nothing to a man’s and could not comprehend why people found it just so cozy, so warm and safe, so ‘homely’. Granted, the most he had experienced it in his short and soon to be expired life was just the harsh handling that came as a bonus to his death. That might change a person’s ideas on things or ways.

     If there was one thing Marco could do before he left this plane of existence, it would be to laugh. It was something he wanted to do all the time, the feeling of it making his stomach all fuzzy inside. If there was a few someones he could see before he ceased to breathe- something was becoming harder and harder each second that passed- it would have to be Armin and his mother. To laugh with his best friend once again would be one of the best things in the world at the moment. To see his mother’s smile before it faded to a frown graced and outlined with tears would make him happier than he would be able to produce into words, even if that was something he was always told that he was good at. Using words.

     Words were a big part of his life. His dream job, the way he met his best friend, a way to keep the peace and somehow stay a pacifist throughout high school. Armin was going to be his editor. _Well, that ship sailed._

It was a few long seconds before Marco registered the dropping motion, the slamming of concrete on his backside. When he finally did however, he was staring up at raining gold dust as it fell around his legs and swiftly dissipated. Attempting to focus on the being above him, he squinted, trying to see through the blurry, swimming sight that he now owned. “Eren?”

     Whoever it was snorted, sounding almost agitated at that obviously wrong guess of character, waving his hand before crouching down to Marco’s level, though the male on the ground could still not take in his appearance. His hair, from what Marco could see of it, looked like a muffin. Once he spoke, Marco tried to pay extra attention, despite the fact that he was not going to have a memory to commit this to much longer, “Did it make you suck its blood?”

     Confused, Marco nodded anyway, trying to be helpful, despite knowing it was most likely going to die on this guy, this hero. _A little too late…_

     “And it sucked yours?”

     Once again, Marco simply nodded, this time his head lolling to the side after he did so, looking at the questioning stranger in half lidded, broken eyes, only to receive a chuckle as he was scooped into his arms. Marco had no option to protest, even if he wanted to. Though, he did like this position much better than the cold ground and his now dead Sire’s bony, pale fingers clutching at his arms, so he just stayed still. After all, a man’s embrace was a lot more comforting to him than a woman’s. Concentrating on that, he almost missed his ‘knight in shining armor’s next words, “Looks like you got yourself a lucky break, Fre…”

     He actually failed to catch the last of the man’s words- amusingly after barely hearing the first ones- when they drowned in the sensation of calm release of the sensations of letting go. There was no light. There were no pearly gates. There was not a single eternal flame. It was only darkness and Marco was falling straight into it. Despite knowing he was tumbling out of control, it was easier to describe as being pulled along instead, tugged by a puppet string. His possession of his body and actions was suddenly lost- and he really know could not figure how he was supposed to feel about that. Sometimes- sometimes- it was better to relinquish control and just give in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would appreciate comments to show me errors in my story, things you liked, didn't like, or other such things! 
> 
> Don't hold back on what you want to say, I'll be happy with any type of judgement or opinion.
> 
> Comments are ALWAYS welcome~!


	2. Marco is an Ignorant Plot Device

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Marco gets to meet his Knight and answers a couple questions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry this took so long to get out. I finally got it done though, just in time for New Year's.

As Marco slowly came to terms with the cold ground on his back, the sharp pangs of hunger bleeding through his stomach, he recognized the sound of men arguing. The voices were ones that he recognized, but one only briefly, while the other he could immediately pin to Eren, what with the angry underlying tone and strange level it was at. Though as Marco attempted to focus on them, he winced, feeling like they were screaming at each other right through his ears.

“...used me with Jaeger, even though I look nothing like that pric-” _Who is that…?_

“How much you bet that he _hoped_ it was me-” That was definitely Eren. Now, if he could only figure out who they were talking about and who that other, deeper voice was...

Said persona spoke up, unknowingly handing a piece of their personality over to Marco. “Egotistical much? I don’t think anyone except Cupcake over there would prefer you over me.”

“He-” Oh thank goodness, Marco almost thought the other male- whoever the unknown person was _had_ to be male- had called _him_ ‘Cupcake’ until he heard what he thought to be Armin’s voice try to pipe up. That was a terrible nickname and if anyone ever tried to call him that Marco would probably rip their throat out.

 _‘rip their throat out’...?_ That could not be himself… Maybe after he passed out he got a little loopy and it would pass in time. Maybe just an intrusive thought. Hopefully.

“Yeah? Because I don’t think I remember Marco asking _you_ out before he d-” _Hold on-_

The offended interrupted with a scoff. “Eyeing you doesn’t count as asking someone out, dumbass.” Wow. Whoever this other person was, they were quite mouthy.

“Guys-”

“At least I got looked at.” I _look at everyone Eren, don’t feel special. You’re not really my type anyway._

“He couldn’t even see me-” _Still can’t see you now. My eyes won’t open._

The only brunette in the room that Marco knew cut him off once more, “Oh? What did you do, blind him with your ugly ass face?”

Marco quickly came to the conclusion that these two did not like each other at all.

“Eren-!” _Oh, please stop the fight._

_Or at least let it get bloody._

“He was _bleeding out_ \- of course he couldn’t see.” _Blood._

“Guys, he’s-” _Shut_ up, _Armin_.

“You should have been quicker! This wouldn’t have happened if you ju-” _Just a little further..._

That did it’s magic and the other male bubbled up, anger seeping to his tone, “You’re blaming me for the little fucker getting Turned?” _‘Turned’? What doe-_

_Oh god._

_No._

“Yes I am! You know why? Because you couldn’t do a good enough job that he got killed.” _Stop, Eren._ “We lost another soul to damnation and you could have stopped it!” _Eren, please._

Apparently this was enough for Armin and he realized what he would have to do. He too, seemed to share Marco’s want to stop the argument. “Guys! Shut _up_ for a second already! Marco’s waking up!” _Armin..._

“Geez, Cupcak-”

Eren sounded _very_ angry at that and cut the man off, “Stop calling him that-”

“Did you not hear me at all? Look at the ground you doofuses.”

Though Marco could not open his eyes and look to see if they were watching him, he could still feel their gazes hot on his body, making him twitch. After the small movement, Marco heard a noise that sounded a lot like someone being shoved aside before the noises of what Marco guessed to be Armin’s footsteps getting farther away. Except, instead of disappearing as the person left he still heard them, just… Lighter. Like the pitter patter of rain on a windowsill. After a few minutes, that soft tapping- that Marco realized was far away footsteps- got louder until they stopped at what he guessed was a few feet away from his body. He pants sounded out of breath and uneven, something that Marco opened his mouth to comment on when his head snapped to the new voice in the room, “Did you see that?”

“See what?”

It was a feminine voice that he heard, gentle, sweet, terribly kind, “His eyes were closed, but… He still seemed to ‘track’ Armin as he left…”

“Yeah, it’s his Vampiric ‘senses’. They’re extended after death to help with finding and following the kill, Petra.” _Petra… What a pretty name._

“So, when do we know which Side he’s on?”

“A couple of days after the Rising, most likely. He’ll probably show signs around then.”

“He won’t show them immediately?” Thank God for Petra, she kept questioning the guy (whom Marco still did not have a name of) and Marco was just absorbing this information for later. It seemed like it was all directed towards him anyway.

“Of course not. He’s got to struggle with one first before we know anything about his loyals.”

The woman- Petra- was quiet for a minute, aside a small hum before asking something else, “What are you going to do if he’s one of the Soulless?” _That_ was not something Marco knew he could react to.

“Give him to Hanji.” The way that voice spoke with such snark… Marco could just see the smirk on those alien lips. “They’d like a new playtoy, wouldn’t they? Heard the last one got too many splinters…” Splinters? Weren’t Vampires damaged by wood? That means…

Eren snorted at that, “You’ll end up as the next silver taste tester with that damn mouth of yours, Wolfboy.” Well, that nickname was certainly unique.

“Do you have any use at all? Can’t you and Cupca-”

“I swear to _fucking_ God, Kirschtein, if you don’t stop calling him that, I will personally go out to the car and get out _the_ bullets.” Eren interrupted with the most irritated huff Marco has ever heard come from him.

Piecing these things together, Marco soon realized that this Kir-whats-it dude is not human either. Now, what was it that didn’t like bullets?

Wouldn’t that be all of them?

Okay. Okay. Bullets… Bullets are made of metal. Lead, usually. Erm, possibly gold? Hell if Marco knew, he’d never been near a gun in his life. Nothing he knew of was burned or whatever by go… Burned by metal. Wolfboy.

The Sass Prince was a werewolf. How come Marco did not figure that out sooner? Internally scoffing at himself, Marco found his hand connect with his forehead with a loud smack, thoroughly interrupting whatever Kircheesestain was saying once again (who groaned quietly to himself, but Marco still heard). He could just _feel_ all the looks they were giving him.

Armin was the first to recover and break the unstable silence, “Marco? Can you talk? Are you hungry? Does it hurt anywhere? Should I-”

“Babe, I think he’s fine. He hasn’t done anything.”

That only worsened Armin’s state of panic, however, “I _know_! Marco _never_ doesn’t do anything! Something’s _wrong_.”

“It could be that he just came back from the grave.” _Could you please put that any blunter, Cheese man?_ Marco could already tell he would not like this guy.

It seemed he was grating on the blonde’s nerves, too, who brazenly spoke out in a cold tone that hushed the entire room, “Jean, I don’t recall asking for _any_ of your lip.”

After a few seconds of tense silence, Marco spoke up, voice raspy from not talking yet today- he could hear both Eren and ‘Jean’ shift as he spoke- and hopefully said something to calm Armin down. “Armin, I’m fine. I just… Can’t open my eyes…?”

‘Jean’ sighed in relief, “Oh, that’s normal. I think you’ll need to Feed first. You hungry?”

Though his stomach churned happily at the thought, Marco shook his head, “I’m not-”

Eren interrupted with a snort, “You need to Feed, hungry or not.”

“I’m not drinking _blood_ , Eren.”

“Ohh, you’re one of _those_ guys, huh?” Marco heard shuffling from where he guessed the Jean guy was at and inferred that he sat down, “Hero complex?”

“Do you accuse everyone of having one of those, Kirschtein?” Eren put in, most likely scowling.

“Only the people who show the symptoms, such as being an ignorant asshole, having the last name Jaeger-”

Marco could just sense the anger flowing from Eren and wanted to make sure he did not attack the other man in the room, “So, if I drink someone’s blood, then I’ll be able to open my eyes, is that right?”

Thankfully, Marco’s question stopped the male from his rain of insults and he moved in his seat, probably to look at Marco. “Yes.”

“I left a package of blood beside you.” Armin offered quietly. It seemed he detested them fighting just as much as Marco did.

Both of them seemed to be verbally abusive assholes.

Reaching over to the left, Marco felt nothing, so instead he started feeling around on the ground to the right, quickly picking up a cold, squishy, plastic bag. Frowning, he squished the bag a little more, enjoying the little squelching noises it created. Licking his lips, he brought it to his mouth, pausing only when he notice how sharp his teeth suddenly were. He did not have any memories of them being this sharp, this long…

Oh right. Blood sucking fiend. That was something Marco definitely had to get used to, and soon.

Now that he had that handled and understood, Marco gently poked the baggie with one of them, pressing harder until it popped, red liquid squirting all over his fingers and lips. The metallic smell… The little droplets on his tongue that held such a taste… It was so compelling…

It was only seconds before Marco could no longer smell the delicious, intoxicating, scent that was what he could only call blood, was gone. Sniffing around, Marco attempted to crack open an eyelid, he could, but… What if he pretended that the small package was too little to help him? Would they believe him? More importantly, would they get him more blood?

Attempting this, Marco held back a grin that was threatening to break the surface of his lips. “Armin?” He crooned, voice purposefully croaky, “Is that all you have? I still can’t open my eyes…?”

However, this _asshole_ in the corner seemed to notice something was amiss. Maybe he noticed Marco’s ability to open his eyes. Maybe he was used to Vampires attempting to do this ploy. Maybe he actually had a brain up there that came down sometimes, “I don’t thin-”

“Didn’t you hear him, Jean? He still can’t open his eyes! He needs another one!”

“Armin-”

“I get that he isn’t _your_ friend, Jean, but he _is_ mine. Stop just for a moment and think about this is in his side. On _my_ side.” Armin hurriedly muttered, effectively cutting Jean off. It seemed to actually work really well. Too well. _Oh look at that. Pining after a taken man, how cute._

Wow. Demon Marco is a bit of an ass. Smart, but really rude. “F-Fine. Whatever.” _You can’t tell me he doesn’t like ‘Cupcake’, Marco. It’s obvious, even to you._

The way his other subconscious ‘whispered’ his name into Marco’s mind was just so strange. It felt so familiar, but yet so unknown. It made Marco shiver, fingers clenching into a fist. Both boys seemed to notice this reaction, from what Marco could tell. Jean… Blew it off, of course, but Eren, Marco sensed, seemed a little more concerned, “He’s shaking. Is he supposed to do that?”

“It’s not the lack of blood. He’s faking it.”

“Of course _you’d_ think that. Do you ever imagine that someone might actually be a good person? You don’t even _know_ Marco and yet you claim to understand what he’s doing. This is _not your place_ , Jean.” Why was Eren trying to protect him? Those words made Marco slump, feeling a surge of pain in his chest, obvious guilt flooding his mind.

This feeling… This human feeling, it felt so wrong, so weak. It felt _painful_. Not that simple sting in the heart and a little ache for a while, no- he felt like he could not breathe. Marco doubled over, sucking in lungful of air one after another, so rapidly that it got everyone left in the room’s attention, whatever Jean had been saying halted on his tongue. He could hear Eren’s voice calling to him to calm down, Jean’s commanding him to stop, but _why would you stop trying to breathe?_

_Maybe because you’re dead._

A dead, Risen, bloodsucking idiot. Once he stopped trying to respire, he slowly calmed down, reduced to a shaking, stuttering mess. “J-Just stake me now. Please, E-Eren.”

“Well, that was embarrassing.” Jean mumbled, Marco’s head snapping in his direction. However, he did not open his eyes, not taking the bait. This was a test and he was going to ace it.

Thankfully, Armin came back just seconds after, quickly tossing- which Marco would argue was _chucking_ \- the bag to the Vampire, hitting him square in the jaw before flopping down to his lap. Marco’s mouth was already watering enough he had to swallow several times as he brought it up to his mouth, tearing the bag as he tried to get to its contents.

Again, it wasn’t long before the bag was sucked dry, licked clean for any extra droplets. Slowly opening his eyes to stare at the empty packets in his hands, Marco heard footsteps from an obviously petite figure, a sweet, girl’s voice ringing out in the suddenly silent room, “Okay, I’m back, I just had to- did you give him _another_ one?” Petra, right? Marco had totally forgotten about her.

It was those words that reminded him who he was- what he was. What had happened last night, why his shirt below him looked so dirty and tattered, ripped in the middle. Torn where he was stabbed, clawed, his death quickened.

He was a liar. A greedy fool who still thought he was alive at random points in time and had lied to his best friend in the whole just to get a little more of someone else’s life core. He was a monster, to say the least.

_Unbelievable._

He could not even listen to himself think, fear of it being the other part of him that now took residence in his mind, afraid of what it might make Marco want to do. Whatever it said was always just influential, but not ever forceful. That said, it meant that everything that Marco did was all _Marco’s_ doing, not the ‘demon’s’. Much like the saying that a drunk man’s words were a sober man’s thoughts, Marco supposed.

It was not until he heard Armin’s voice a few feet away from him that he took notice of the stream of tears running down his cheeks, creating a cleaner path in the grime on his face. There was sniffling, too, of course, the snotty kind, where it was clear there was some mucus running down a person’s face, but Marco paid no mind to that. Instead, he just tilted his head up, looking at Armin through the metal bars he had not seen until now. Scooting closer, he dropped his head between himself and the separation, pressing the top of his messy hair to the material, letting the tears spill onto the concrete floor below him. Those tears, of course, were made of nothing less than the feelings he had right now: horror, self pity, anguish, and shame. He did not want Armin to reward him with a touch (which he seemed to understand). He did not want anyone to calm him down. He needed to break down, fold in on himself, and just cry. Cry the most ugly river of salty tears he had ever come across and get it all out.

As he did what he needed, Armin came closer, but not within reach, as if cautiously distancing himself from the weeping man in the cell next to him. It was then that Marco became aware of the reason why Armin was not touching him, was not comforting him. It was not that he was thinking of Marco, knowing he needed this, no. It was that Marco was still a monster, still a possible threat on their lives, and _Armin could not trust him_. Even though Marco knew that it was only because of the demon that could possibly affect his state of mind, it still hurt. His best friend, the only one who Marco could talk to sometimes, the _last person he thought of before he died_ , could not trust him to not kill their friends.

“I’m sorry,” It was barely anything, but it was all Marco could say, “I’m so sorry.”

Though the blonde kept trying to shush him, to tell him it was okay, Marco knew better, he knew that nothing was ‘okay’ anymore. He should not even be alive, but here he was. He should not be able to cry, yet that is what he was doing. Crying is a bodily function- at least the tears and the snot are what make it so. He should not be able to do this. And, well, the thought of that only made Marco sob harder. Still whispering his apologies, Marco clutched and scratched at the ground below before leaning away and tugging at his hair. He pulled and pulled and pulled as if attempting to yank the other conscious out from his thoughts by his own hairs.

 _What are you even doing anymore, Marco?_ Though he could not tell who was murmuring it into his head anymore, Marco still listened to its hiss, defeated. _Would Armin want this of you? Come on, suck it up!_ Yeah. He could do this. He had to. He had to earn their trust again somehow, right? He slowly stopped pulling at his poor, straightened locks. His rush of liquid pouring from his probably swollen and pink eyes began to steady down until he was left snuffling with the occasional muffled, warbled cry of pain from overexerting himself during his little self feels fest until he was finally still. “Marco?”

Said Vampire sniffed quietly in response.

“Are you alright?”

 _Remember who you’re doing this for. You want him to trust you again, right?_ It took a few moments before Marco replied to Armin’s soft questions of care, “Yeah… Yeah, I’m fine. I,” he shivered, despite not feeling cold at all, “I’m sorry I-”

Armin cut him off, “Marco, really, it’s fine.”

“I _lied_ to you, Armin. How is that fine?” Marco hissed, fingers looping between strands of his hair as if he was ready to pull again.

Sighing, Armin inched the tiniest bit closer, “You were hungry. It’s understandable.”

“You can’t pretend this is all ‘okay’ or ‘understandable’ when I outright faked being unable to open my eyes because of the possible chance of _more_. Are you aware of how that could be used against you if-”

Though most of the time Armin was one to listen through everything, waiting his chance to talk, moments like this, when the person was wrong and/or beating themselves up about it, he would feel the need to interrupt. One of those times was now, when Marco was conveniently talking, “If someone else did it? I wouldn’t bother, Marco. The difference was that this time- whether there be a time in the future or not- was that it was _you_. I can trust _you_ to not abuse that privilege once you got around to. I know whatever it was that thought that it would be a good idea to trick me wasn’t _you_. Still, whatever it was had a hold of your body and your needs and- well, I wasn’t just about to let it do whatever it wanted with you. So I gave you a bag of blood, so what? You’re suddenly strong enough to break through these bars? I don’t think so.” The petite male was a little winded after that, but he held a cheerful smile that slowed Marco’s rising argument down back to his throat.

Nodding, Marco leaned back against the wall, unbrushed, matted hair falling in front of his eyes, Armin did have… Many… Points after all. Taking another very unneeded deep breath out of habit, Marco laid his hands in his lap, the most stressless position at the moment. He really did not need anything else to happen right now. He just needed to think and ‘breathe’ before the others showed up. The other two boys had run out with whom Marco presumed to be Petra almost as quickly as she had came in. Knowing that would probably be talked about later, he filed it away in his mind.

There were so many questions floating around in his head, all of them relating to what he was now. Would he have to ‘Feed’ every day? Could he turn into a bat at will? Is there a point where he actually has to turn into a bat? Do bats actually like him now? Could he have an army o-

Stop thinking of bats. Because honestly, that last one was probably going over the line. Well, whatever, Marco would probably ask it anyway.

A few minutes of silence, Eren, Petra, and Jean came back in, but Marco did not look up to greet them. One of them was breathing quite heavily as far as Marco could hear, but he could not get a grip on which one it was and the fact that he was trying to so hard only scared him a little. Might as well get used to it, you know?

Armin, however, stood, walking over to greet them and whisper in hushed tones that Marco could still decipher. They were talking about… Petra? It was most likely that she was the one doing all the heavy breathing, Marco realized. As the blonde asked how she was doing, Eren murmured about her puking again ( _Again?_ ) because of the way… Marco Fed. Shoulders hunching, Marco curled in on himself as he listened because they were too loud for him not to. And he really could not just ignore things he heard sometimes. Even as a child, when his parents would fight, he would still cling to every single word until he finally got his ear plugs in.

Did he really look like a crazed animal when he ate from the blood packets? Was it really that sickening? If it was, well, Marco would have to try to fix that. He did not want to freak people out by his new demonic ways of doing things, even if he really doubted that people would be around him once he found a way to get his own blood sources. Still, it was not like he was Feeding on people in front of her per say, but just a small percentage of them that they gave up and _could_ make more of…

Marco decided on just saying (to himself of course) that she was just squeamish, since none of the others really reacted the same way she did. Yet again, all of the boys, discluding Armin, fought the supernatural for a living and Armin was the boyfriend of someone who did, so they seem a little used to that kind of stuff.

Speaking of used to it, Jean seemed to be the only one that could remember that Marco could hear them, whispering or not, and spoke in his normal voice, “Well, it doesn’t matter. She’s okay now, even if I can’t say the same for Freckles over there.”

Knowing that both Armin and Eren both did _not_ have freckles, Marco looked up, towards the group with curious eyes. They only widened when he got a look at the man having caught his attention, just eaten ‘food’ rushing to his face in a crimson blush.  
Wow, was he gorgeous. While he was not quite Marco’s height, who was pretty towering himself, Jean was pretty tall. Thin and lanky, he wore a tight fitting, black t-shirt, worn leather jacket throw over it. As much as Marco wanted not to, his eyes kept skimming over and noticing just how _tight_ that shirt was. Monster hunting obviously paid off for this man, because hot damn. Marco could be serious here and say that personalities are great and all, but when a breathtaking man like Jean wore a shirt like that, one that was like he was practically not wearing one at all, well, that is when everything about a man’s thoughts and actions were just additions. He just wanted to run his hands down from his absolutely _delicious_ collarbone to the bottom of perfect shirt and the tops his jeans, sli-

_Okay, let’s not pop one in front of the stranger, shall we?_

Moving on, Marco quickly caught up with himself, making sure to not check to see if Jean indeed have a nice ass too. He probably did. Still, Marco was not going to look. Shutting his slightly agape mouth, which he did not remember had fallen open, he looked up to Jean’s face, the one that was staring back at him with a thin and amused raised eyebrow. _Shit, he noticed._ Even if he did start blushing harder, Marco still let his eyes roll around Jean’s long, angular face, taking in how sharp his nose was and that incredible shade of amber eyes he had.

When he finally got to actually looking at the man’s hair, Marco’s own burnt whiskey colored eyes widened, blaming himself for not recognizing him before. He was… Muffin hair guy. The one with the ashy blonde hair on top, darker brown on the bottom underside. The one that helped him get here, that Staked his Sire. He was Marco’s hero, literally, and Maroc thanked everything in the sky that this was the man that saved his ass. This _incredibly fucking hot man_ was his saviour, one that he had small connections to.

Suddenly, his assholery did not seem so much of a turn off.

It was kind of hot too, now that Marco could see who it belonged to.

Yet again, just this guy breathing was attractive.

 _How long have I been staring at this guy, anyway?_ Somehow, Marco could not come up with a reasonable answer to that. Speak, Marco, say something and stop looking like a fool.

Just as Marco opened his mouth to say something, a thought processed and he shut it again, some of the fading flush returning, _Do_ not _make a comment on how attractive he is. He’ll get this big ego and it’ll be annoying to listen to all day._ Right. Do not think of how those lips would lo-

_Marco, you are going to kill yourself. Again._

“You’d look like this if you had just died, too.” _He really wouldn’t_ , Marco reasoned with himself, _he’d still look stunning even with blood dripping from his wounds_. He sighed to himself, knowing it was probably really true.

Raising his eyebrow higher, Jean gave a hint of a smile, seemingly impressed. “Back to health are we?”

Despite that being quite a smooth transition, Marco narrowed his eyes at the changing of the subject. It wasn’t that he wanted a compliment or to talk about how Jean would actually look really good with bruises- okay maybe he did, just a little- but he could tell Jean was trying to look for soft spots to possibly poke later. Giving himself a mock once over, Marco shrugged, “As much as I’ll ever be. I feel a little dead though, so, you know, I could be better.”

Subconsciously putting a hand on his hip, Jean attempted to retort, “Well, you should kno-”

Yet, Eren interrupted by pushing past Jean and out of his shadow to stand next to the bars, “As much as I’d love to hear you too flirt more,” He paused, allowing both boys to give their reactions, Marco’s being to shake his head in a disapproving manner and Jean’s to squawk indignantly before continuing, “Marco still needs to be able to ask questions. It’d be pretty shitty of us to just let him try to figure everything out on his own.”

That, Marco could agree with. He nodded, sitting up and straightening his back.

“So, Marco? Do you have any questions?” The brunette asked, gray orbs sparkling. Oh, he was so ready to answer all of these. _You have no idea, Eren._

“Yeah, so… I’m not going to have to Feed everyday, right?” First things first, get the important questions out. After that _then_ the questions about the bat armies.

Shaking his head, Eren proceeded to tell him every few days, about three to four times a week maybe. He could go longer if he had to, but it would not be the best for Marco. As Eren was explaining this, Jean let him do it, walking over to some blue, plastic chairs, the ones from a school probably, to go sit by Petra, who was listening intently. Guessing that she was new to all of this, Marco made sure to ask _all_ of his questions.

“Where can I get my blood? Aside from people, that is.”

“We have an agreement with the hospital- don’t ask that’s a long story- so they give us the expired blood instead of throwing it out. If you want, we could hook you up with them, too. You could also kill animals if you want.” Marco shook his head, cringing. He would not take a life for food he could easily get elsewhere.

“Alright… Do I heal pretty quick, too? Or is it like usual…?”

“Well, look down at your shirt, do you have any marks? Horseface over here-” ‘Hey!’ “Told me you got stabbed.”

“Oh, yeah.” Looking down, Marco noticed that there was nothing of what had happened the night before on his chest, not even a mark. “Whoa. That’s cool.”

“Now, feel your neck.”

Doing so, Marco was surprised to feel the scar of an obvious bite mark. The raised skin felt odd against his usually smooth flesh. “Is it super visible?”

“Not incredibly.”

Nodding, Marco continued with his questionnaire, “Can I turn into a bat at will?”

Squinting, Eren shook his head slowly, as if thinking Marco was insane. “No. The only things that can change into animals at all are werewolves and shapeshifters- but we haven’t met a shapeshifter yet and werewolves can only go full wolverine during full moons.”

“You say it like it’s a choice, Eren.” Jean drawled, arms folded along his extraordinarily built chest.

Rolling his eyes, Eren gestured to Marco to continue. “What happens when I step outside during the day?”

“You’ll catch on fire and burn to death.” Eren said simply as if dying was just something that people talked about like it was the weather.

Blinking, Marco paused before coming up with his next question, “Can I still touch garlic?”

“Yes. The only thing that garlic does to Vampires is annoy them with its smell just like it does to normal people.”

 

“I actually like the smell of garlic.” Armin piped up to Eren who murmured a small apology before kissing his hand and turning back to Marco for his other questions.

“Uh…” Marco rubbed at his chin, trying to think of another question, just so he would not have to bug Eren later. “What _is_ a Vampire?”

That question took Eren by surprise as he seemed to catch the meaning behind it. “Well, hm… I guess it’s someone who gets Turned by a demonic, possessed being that is only capable of drinking blood.”  
Nodding, he continued on that path of questioning, wanting to make sure he covered everything. “Are there different types of Vamps?”

“Kind of… To put it simply, good Vampires and bad ones. The bad ones are the ones that the have their souls ripped out of them by a demon when they get Turned and the good ones are the ones that have a strong enough will power to defeat said demon and send it back to hell.”

“Go on. Like, explain what happens when a person gets Turned.”

“Well, when a Vampire wants to Turn someone, they first drink their blood, then they have the person drink theirs. After that, they kill the person, who Awakens as a Newborn, or a recently Turned Vampire. Once they’re Awake, they already have a demon kind of ‘inside’ them, the whole Turning business similar to a summoning ritual. Well, that demon has to fight the Newborn’s soul over the body. If the soul wins, the demon is sent back to hell and the person basically is how they were before, just with their Vampiric abilities. If the demon wins, the soul is ripped from them and sent to the Underworld, forever in damnation. However, once a person is Turned, they can never go to heaven, even if they never sin. Their soul has been contaminated by a demon and once they die (if they ever do) their soul is destroyed in the process of death.”

After several minutes of listening to that, Marco was left without words, just taking a few moments to absorb all of that in. It was a lot, but it was everything he needed to know on the subject.

Wow… He was never going to be able to go to heaven now. That was kind of… Unfair? But at the same time kind of understandable. He was not going to cry again, but if there was something to weep about, that would be it. “Huh… Wow… I… I don’t know what to say.” There was a bitter chuckle following that, but it was something that again, was understandable.

Swallowing, Eren glanced away, feeling a little guilty. Still, someone had to tell him. “Anymore questions?”

It was a few more tantalizing minutes before Marco responded to that, “Speaking of heaven… Can I still go to church? Walk on Holy ground?”

Shaking his head, Eren looked back to Marco, trying to look a little braver, “No… It’ll act like a forcefield kind of you and you won’t be able to step on it. Kind of like walking into a house that isn’t your own uninvited.”

“Meaning,” Jean droned, fixing Eren’s apparently obvious mistake, “You have to be invited into someone’s home before you can enter. Public or abandoned places, however, are fine.”

“What about crosses?”

It was Jean who answered this time, bored eyes sliding down Marco’s undead, still sitting figure. “Nope. Burn you just like silver to a werewolf.”

Marco was starting to catch on to just how much Jean knew about werewolves. “I see…”

_Just how long has it been since he was human?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to everyone who helped me with this, the editing, the motivation, the questions. 
> 
> If you find a part that confuses you or looks wrong, please comment and tell me what's wrong, I'd love to explain/fix whatever seems to be the problem.


	3. Jean Cannot Handle Things and This is Where We Learn That

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Jean gets a couple things thrown in his face, thankfully not literally.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long, long wait. I didn't want to write for a whole week after last chapter and then lots of things piled up on each other these past few weeks.. I didn't get much time to write this. Sorry, it's shorter than last chapter.
> 
> So, here's a little EreJean for you all, even if it's just friendly (though people can take it however they like) and Armin fixes up that Jearmin. 
> 
> I'm tracking those 'fic: tsgd' or 'fic: the sun's going down' tags on tumblr for any comments/artwork/whatever else and my tumblr is the same as my ao3, overmyfreckledbody. On there is a strictly snk blog where I reblog mostly JeanMarco.
> 
> Feel free to send anon notes or follow.

It had been a few days since he was Turned and now Marco was finally ‘released’ and able to go back home. Armin told him that Jean eventually came around and reluctantly deemed the Vampire safe to be around- as long as Marco was not hungry. He still did not trust anyone to be around him then.

Following Eren's advice, he went to Home Depot and bought several wooden planks along with a pack of steel nails. (Marco would have bought silver, but they do not seem to make them.) Once he got home, he quickly took the advantage of it still being night and went to boarding up the windows. First in his room, just in case, before moving to the kitchen and around the house. He put a strip of duct tape over the small eyehole in the door and looked around to see what else he had to prepare before he went to bed.

Hm... Eren said splinters would be worse, too, so maybe he could wax every piece of wooden furniture in the house, but he could do that anytime. He would need blood soon, but otherwise...

Food- that was the last thing he needed to do. Sighing to himself, Marco trudged up to his fridge, hunting around until he got to milk. He had to test this out himself.

_“Yeah, you can eat food, it’s actually better if you don’t though- and nothing tastes as good as blood, but you still can.”_

When he was human, Marco absolutely loved milk. He had no idea why of course, like most people, his favorite drink just tasted extremely good to him, so he always had it on hand since he had first moved out. Pouring himself a glass, he thought back to each time he Fed, the taste a of sweet, irony flavor still lingering on his lips. His tongue gently prodded out of his mouth, doing a sweep along his mouth- just to check. Taste still vibrant on his senses, he brought the cup to his mouth, quickly taking a gulp, hoping to the God he was banished from that it still tasted as delicious as usual and that Eren was just wrong.

Marco did not think he could ever be in a worse situation than the one was now.

 

* * *

 

 

“ _Fuck_ no! I’m not taking that _kid_ with me on patrols!”

“Dude, he’s older than you are. By a _damned_ year.” Eren, originally meaning to only correct Jean, could not help but slip that in there, smirking at the taller’s glare.

“He acts like a fifteenth year old, let’s be serious here.”

“That didn’t stop you from flirting with him.” Came Eren’s cheeky retort as they rounded a corner, stake subconsciously tightening in his grip.

Jean, however, squawked in reply, flustering for a matter of seconds before he came back to his senses. He was not going to let _Eren_ of all fools get the best of him. “I was not _flirting_. Are you serious?”

All he got in response was an obviously sarcastic shrug and a look over tan shoulders. Damn it, Eren.

Rolling his eyes, Jean could not believe how much sass Eren had been hiding in the closet with him. When he was still calling himself straight he was just an asshole, but as soon as he came out, bringing a cute blonde with him, he brought as much sass as the stereotypical gay man with then two of them.

Of course, it was only given out to Jean of course. He had a feeling that it was him trying to prove something when Jean had teased him for wearing a scarf that happened to be very feminine. (Though, Jean was not lying when he said Eren wore it well, despite his voice dripping with ‘friendly’ venom.)

“Why do you want to pair me up with Freckles anyway? You’re a pretty shitty matchmaker, the both of you.”

“Aww, pet names already? How cute.”

“Shut the fuck up and answer the question.” Jaeger was really starting to piss him off and he was not going to hide the fact. He needed a good fist fight anyway and none of the Vamps seemed to be around to let him blow off some steam. “ _Dude_. When was the last time you got _laid_?”

Of fucking course. He was going to go _there_. “I swear to _God_ , if you don’t start minding your own godda-”

Laughing, the brunette punched Jean’s shoulder, giving a small warning to back off. They had been somewhat off and on friends for years and have learned to read each other’s body language, but sometimes they had to remind the other that they were just messing around. It often was not a verbal confrontation, instead, a light touch here or there, but nothing that could be confused with anything other than close friendship. It _would_ be kind of weird if they started holding hands randomly in a dark, musky alley, after all. “Armin was just thinking that if we got him into the team, we would not only have another fighter, but if you two got along-” He nudged him again, smirking with so much smugness that Jean barely kept himself from punching the shit of out of his ugly, goddamn face, “Then you’d have a permanent partner.”

Eren kept talking through Jean’s thoughtful silence, “Since everyone knows Connie hates working with you and I would prefer to go solo, if Marco was your partner, everyone would be happy and more put to use.”  
Snorting, Jean peeked around a trashcan, only spotting a sleeping hobo before continuing, he glanced at Eren. “You know, for a shorty who’s always complaining about being in my squad, he loves when I take him out to celebratory bars.”

“Everyone loves when you do that.” Eren deadpanned, rolling his eyes.

“Yeah, but Connie likes it more. Brings his girlfriend along and she’s pretty nice- when you don’t have food that is- and we make plans to go play laser tag or some shit.”

“And do you?” Eren asked, looking up at him with honestly interested eyes, “Do you and Connie ever actually hang out?”

Nodding, Jean rolled his shoulders and popped his neck, eyes still on careful, attentive watch, even if he was holding a domestic conversation with one of the biggest dumbasses he knew. “Yeah, all the time. Sasha, his girl, loves planning things, especially picnics, and constantly brings me up to date on what’s going on in their world. I guess you could say we’re friends, but that doesn’t stop him from thinking I’m one of the worst to work with.”

“I can see where he’s coming from.” Eren laughed as Jean glared at him for kicking a rock out of the way, the clattering a bit too loud for his liking.

Shaking his head, Jean rubbed his forehead. “Says he doesn’t like the routes I take, says they’re too boring.”

“Like the conversation you make?”

“Oh, shut your trap. It’s not like you make any better.”

“You’re just not worth my interesting words, you know, the ones I save for people who might have big enough minds to understand them.”

“God, you’re so lame. It’s a wonder how you’re still alive- _and_ you want to go _solo_.” Jean cursed aloud, the thought of having to take a patrol route on his on giving him the shivers. Of course Eren was the only person in their crew that was suicidal enough to want to take the graveyard shift by himself. Even if he was good enough to do so, the whole idea was so stupid it constantly had Jean shaking his two-toned head.

“Why wouldn’t I? Quicker by myself and quicker means more Dusting which means less Vampires. Those _suckers_ piss me off more than you do and I want them all _dead_.” His last words had Jean wincing, not that Eren noticed, not in this state. He always seemed a little demonic when he started talking about his ‘duty’ to kill all the inhuman evils of the world. It was easy for Jean to know he was most likely thinking back to a time of past, something dark.

Something that gave him his adopted sister, Jean already knew.

 

* * *

 

 

“Armin, come on, pick up, pick up, I need you…” Marco murmured to his phone, not understanding why his friend would not _pick up the goddamn phone_.

However, as he was sent to voicemail, Marco felt another rush in his throat and he was retching into the porcelain again, tears stabbing at the corners of his eyes. It was already the sixth round of this and he was so _sick_ of it. His stomach would have him bending over the toilet, attempting to get everything from his form before giving him a few minutes of peace. Once those precious moments were up, he would be crouching again, cursing himself for not listening to his brunette friend.

Not only does food now taste vile, but his stomach rejects it too. He was not sure if he was just super sensitive, that he would have to have blood before he ate, or if eating at all was something he would have to adjust to.

Through the pain in his stomach and throat, through the foul taste tingling the tip of his tongue, through the undeniable misery he was in, Marco somehow heard the vibrations of his phone on the marble and blindly reached for it as another wave of nausea hit him. Almost dropping the device, he found a way to slide open the call and bring it up to his ear, holding it away from the toilet each time his stomach revolted against him. It took a few minutes, but he was soon able to croak out a few words, “A-Armin? Is… Is that you?”

 

* * *

 

 

It was the third time they had walked down a certain, broken, slab of pavement and Jean could feel the irritation rolling off Eren in pulses. It was not like he was going to be bothered by it of course, but he could not help but notice. It was going to start bugging him too soon and just the thought of that sent a thread of anger through him.

“Dude, we haven’t seen _anything_. Can we go check out the graveyard? There’s gotta be at _least_ two Rising right about now.”

“Come on, Eren, you’re smarter than that. They have to know about us by now, so why would they still sleep under the ground?”

That was a good point, Eren knew, but he, too, knew his stuff. “First, you and I both know this, is that sleeping under that shit is more comfortable for them. Secondly, they can move dirt to their dens or something. Third, they don’t go there for the bedding, let’s be real. It’s a Friday and it’s dark, now who would really be here at a time like this?”

Even if he was not looking at Eren, he knew that his defeated slouch was making the little bastard grin. There was never a point in time that Jean would say that Eren did not make good points, but he still would never voice his opinion on them either. “Stupid and curious teenagers?”

“Bingo! Little bags of walking meals. It’s like a fast food restaurant that’s giving out free food.”

“Better for you and better tasting.” Jean agreed, playing along to Eren’s game. “I see what you’re getting at. But what if there-”

Interrupted by Eren suddenly holding up his hand and fishing out his phone, Jean paused in his stride, glancing at him confused. He watched as Eren suddenly sobered, eyes soft and panicked at the same time, something that told Jean he was talking to Armin… Who held bad news. As Eren spoke, Jean trying not to listen, he kept his eyes glancing around the area, peeled on anything, looking for signs of movement, despite the emergency he was responding to on the other end. He tried to keep calm, but as soon as Armin opted for asking for Jean to come with him to help Marco with whatever was going on, he bristled. Eren was not stupid, he knew Jean liked Armin and he knew Armin had- or at least used to have- a juvenile crush on him too. There was no way in hell that he was going to let the two be alone together.

Still, as soon as he vetoed that option, Armin went on about how not only was Eren not trusting him enough to do this, his boyfriend, but that there was a more important matter happening and Marco needed Jean’s expertise. He eventually gave in, told Jean the gist of the problem and forwarded him the address to their friendly Vampire’s house.

But not without a warning to the taller, two-toned male of course.

 

* * *

 

 

After getting instructions to Marco’s in text form from Armin, Jean rushed over, apparently getting there before Armin. As he knocked loudly on the door, he heard a muffled yell of “Come in!” before a clattering noise of sorts. Letting himself in, Jean only had a few seconds to sweep in everything around him as he darted around, trying to zero in on the retching noises so he could be of help.

Aside from the random planks and nails lying by the couch, it seemed fairly clean. It was sparse, a signal that made Jean guess that Marco did not make much money. The front door led into the living room which had an open walkthrough to the kitchen (where Jean thought he saw a backdoor) and a hallway. Taking the hallway he noted an open pathway to what he suspected was the dining room. There was a bedroom towards the end of the hall before it turned to the left, but on his right was what he assumed to be the bathroom, the door barely ajar, light sprawling out along with the source of the noises. Kicking the door open, he saw the man- Vampire?- he had only met a few days ago leaning pitifully over the toilet bowl and spitting sad amounts of saliva and mucus into its porcelain container.

After a second to collect himself, Marco gulped down much unneeded oxygen and stared down at the outcome of his experiment, a swirl of a thin red liquid, something of a creamy white color, and the acidically putrid look of bile. Well, if the poor guy did not already know- that stuff had to come out sooner or later anyway. “… Armin, thank everything you’re here.”

Coughing quietly, Jean knelt down beside him, trying not to flinch at the smell of Marco’s state.

Slowly looking over at him, the Vampire’s eyes widened and he fell over trying to move away, tears from before still clear on his face. “W-What-?! Where’s Armin? Wh-”

“He’s on his way.” Jean huffed, attempting to keep himself in check. No use in getting irritable and freaking the kid out even more than he already was. He reached out, flushing the toilet and making a small roll of toilet paper around his hand before handing it to Marco. “I was closer.”

“Why are you here?” Ah, quick to the point. Despite being in a snotty, disgusting mess, he still put up these walls against the man who made sure he would ‘come back’. Figures. They always do.

He snorted to himself. “Because Armin doesn’t know jack shit yet.” Quickly changing the topic with a sigh, he gestured to the significantly cleaner toilet bowl, “You done puking yet?”

Rubbing away as much of the runny substance from his face as he could, Marco threw away the used tissues. “I don’t know…”

“Judging from the amount of bodily fluids in this thing, I’d say you are.” Jean told him, looking over with a raised eyebrow. “What were you doing eating anyway? That’s insane. Didn’t Jaeger tell you not to?” Jean did not care enough to stick around much after Eren started listing off the warning labels.

Freckles gave a weak laugh, looking like a kicked kid in trouble as he scratched the back of his neck, “He said he didn’t recommend it, but I could if I wanted to.”

Frowning, Jean glanced at him with suspicion, however it was not directed towards Marco. Yet, how would the freckled male understand that? “Yeah...He said I still could.”

Giving a bitter laugh under his breath, Jean stood, brushing the invisible, nonexistent dust off his knees, “Yeah, well that dickhead lied to you.”

“What?” Marco followed suit, however without the subconscious movement on his legs. “Why would he-?”

Jean cut him off with a wave of his fingers, “That stuff was going to end up needing to find a way out sooner or later. You haven’t found a way to make your systems work again yet and I guess he thought that telling you that would make it easier for you or something. Better off sooner than later.” He brushed a hand through his hair, crease marks between his eyebrows worse than usual. Muttering with a grunt under his breath, he bit his lip in thought, “Fucking _stupid_.”

“Excuse me?” Marco asked, immediately bridled. He was just listening to someone he thought he could tru-

Looking up with an alarmed expression, Jean quickly lifted his hands in defense and shook his head. “No-no! Not you. Not you…”

Marco’s eyes slid over those sharp angles doubtfully, deciding on whether he should believe him or kick him out of the house. However, he did not have time to pick one as Armin burst in, out of breath, silky blonde hair in ruffles, baggy sweatshirt on backwards, loose jeans riding low on his hips, something that Marco noticed with a secretive grin that the other male was eying.

“Marco!” He gasped, pulling said Vamp into a tight hug, one close enough that he could feel Armin’s erratic heartbeat through. As he pulled away, tears edging his bright, baby blues, his eyes skimmed Marco over, “Are you feeling better? Are you okay? I heard you on the other end and I j-”

Marco, more confident and definitely more back to ‘normal’ from his _conversation_ with Jean interrupted Armin with a shake of the head. “Yeah. I’m feeling fine now.” Lowering his voice and shooting the watching Jean a glance, he smiled enthusiastically. “What’s-His-Face-Grumpy-Pants here helped me get back on my feet.” _If you mean by making me realize through callous words that reality was knocking violently on my door, maybe._

Sighing happily, Armin nodded, stepping back. He wrinkled his nose a little and worried his lip, happy smile dissappaiting. “Ugh, Marco, you smell disgusting.”

"Wow, thanks." Marco giggled, hand subconsciously coming up to cover and muffle them. "I love you too, Armin."

Rolling his baby blues, the blonde shook his head, turning around and guiding a watching Jean out of the bathroom, calling over his shoulder, "Just get yourself freshened up, we'll be in the living room."

Following Armin's lead, Jean got a better look at Marco's house, now picking up on a few more little details, such as the laptop on the cheap table in the dining room and the random miniscule holes in the walls. Coming back to the living room, Jean rolled a corner of the faded rug back down with his foot and raised his head to see Armin studying him intently. His gaze softened and he cocked his head to the side questioningly.

Biting his precious, pink lip between his teeth in the cutest way, the shorter male waited a moment, two, before taking Jean's rough hand in his soft one. "Thank you, Jean. You seemed to help him a lot... More than I probably could."

"Not really, he was just ab-"

His modest reply was cut off with a squeeze of their intertwined hands, "Thank you, Jean."

With a short gulp and barely flushed cheeks, Jean nodded and looked away, not daring to move in fear of breaking their connection. Though, it was only a few seconds before he looked back into those orbs that always held him in place like a pinned butterfly. They were staring straight back at him, much to Jean’s surprise, and were clouded with uncertainty, fear, and… Pity. “Jean, there’s something we really need to discuss.” A silent nod was the only reply Armin got.

“About us.” A _whoosh_ of air from his lungs hit the pale skin in front of him, blowing past the silky blonde locks and a hand gently took his other one, pressing softly. “Or, the lack of.”

_Calm yourself._

“Jean, I know that there was a point where we were almost…”

_Stop it, take it like a man._

“But since we aren’t…”

He was shaking and the pity in those sky colored crystals only worsened with each word. “And I’m with Eren…” Those were the words that gave Jean the energy to pull his hands from the light grip that held them, but it was not enough to turn his head. Armin understood and continued. “We won’t be. Ever. And I feel nothing for you.”

It was hard to breathe and he could feel something pricking at his eyes, but Jean held himself together. “Alright.”

“I want you to find someone. I don’t want you to ever think we _can_ be together, because we can’t and even if something happens between Eren and I, we _won’t_.” Armin finished, staring at his friend with caring, but serious eyes. This was something that had to be said and truthfully he never wanted to do it, but if he didn’t, who would? If people ever think that they have the slightest chance at something, they’ll chase after it. That’s the perfect definition of a lottery after all.

There was silence, a moment, two, three, and the two toned man stood up, carding a hand through the fluffed up part of his hair, tugging when his long fingers got to the ends of the strands. There were clear tears in his eyes, unfalling, as he paced back and forth in front of the plain couch. He was nodding to himself like he understood. He faked it more than anything, because while the words clicked in his mind, their meaning making sense, the way they were strung together did not. He paused, little tufts of fur popping up from the top of his head, sandy blonde wiggling a little before flattening on his head in a quick, sad motion. His voice cracked and he kept his back to the blonde who was watching him patiently, waiting for him to say something. He would, Jean could not live without saying something to everything. His opinion was always spoke, no matter who listened or cared. A deep breath and a squeak, it flowed through, less words than Armin thought, “Never?”

Even if Jean could not see him, he shook his head slowly, “Never.”

“Is there a reason?” Jean started, turning to look at him, wringing his hands to keep the rest of his body from shaking. Small feet stood to walk closer, maybe to steady him, Jean did not know, but neither did he care. He could not just drop this… _Bomb_ \- and then just expect Jean to be all right, all okay. He quickly stepped back and watched as the being in front of him sat back down in defeat. Jean pretended that his heart did not twang harshly in his chest at that.“B-Because, there was a point when this,” he made a back and forth motion between them, “Was there. When did that go away? Feelings don’t just- just- _leave_ because someone else comes along!”

“ _Jean_!” Armin shouted, standing once again. He quieted himself down a little after realizing that he did not want to freak Jean out more. He needed the wolf boy calm or else they would not get anywhere. “I met you _after_ I was with Eren and I were together. He introduced us.”

“That doesn’t mean t-” Jean tried, but was interrupted by the other once again, “It means _everything_. I don’t want to be with you, at all, that way! The only way we would more than just friends if I was _out of it_.”

Marco, due to the yelling, had stepped into the living room to be present for those last words. Not only did they leave him in shock, but when he looked over at Jean, he could tell the man was close to breaking down. However, that burst of words was more than enough to get him to move, and he stepped forward, teeth baring cruelly as he growled out, “ _Give me your phone_.”

Confused and surprised, Armin;s yellow brows furrowed and he cocked his head just a little, asking why. Repeating himself slowly, Jean held out his hand until Armin dropped it into his palm. The blonde was not scared, knowing he would never hurt him, but he was curious as to what he would do with the electronic. “What’s your password?” He asked, voice gravelly and coarse.

“Zero three thirty.” Armin answered, calm.

Snorting, even if he was still upset, close to bawling and pulling his hair out, “That’s a dumb password.”

“It’s Eren’s birthday.” Armin murmured, purposefully telling him. Might as well pour salt in the wounds. He was not testing Jean, but if he could get him to hate Armin, he would be able to get over him much easily.

Angrily punching in the numbers and swiping through his apps, he shook his head, “Makes it even dumber.”

Jean fiddled with things, typed something in, locked the phone and held it for a minute until it buzzed, a notification that Armin knew, a text message. He blindly reached for it, only for Jean to step back. Once he read whatever it said, he smiled, a bitter expression that barely held back what looked to be hatred, and locked the phone, handing it to Armin and turning to the door as Marco ducked behind the hallway once again. They both watched him leave, Marco being able to hear him walk away even after the door slammed shut behind him before he stumbled to Armin who was now sitting on the couch once again with a wobbling lip and worried eyes.

“What did he do with it?” Marco asked in a quiet tone as Armin flipped between two different apps.

The contacts app and the texting app.

“Cut me out of his life.”

Under the Eren tab of his texts held six messages:

_Delete Jean’s number from your phone, please._

_Don’t ask why._

_ok…_

_done_

_Thank you, Eren._

_I’ll explain tonight._

 

* * *

 

 

Out of breath and with a fresh face of tears to wipe off his face, Jean stopped outside of Connie’s apartment and took a minute to collect himself. Breathe in, breathe out. Checking to see that his phone was pretty full of juice and that he had his ear buds, Jean dug his nails into his palms once more that night and knocked, loudly.

It was several long, excruciating minutes before a tired and done looking Connie opened the door, exasperation changing to concern quite quickly. He let him in without a word, locking up behind him and watching him curl up on a ball on the couch.

“Thanks, Connie.” He sniffled, so angry at himself for breaking down in front of his friend, “Just for tonight. I’ll be gone in the morning. I just… I really don’t want to be alone tonight.”

Shaking his head, Connie flopped onto the couch beside him, hand automatically reaching up to fix his fly aways. “Stay. A couple nights at least. You’re a fuckin’ wreck.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

They stayed like that for a few more minutes before Connie stood up, a hand catching his wrist, “Connie?”

“Yeah?”

“Could ya, uh,” Swallowing, Jean reworded, wanting to get this out right. “Can I stay here unlisted?”

Snorting, the buzzed head rolled gold eyes at him. “This isn’t a motel, dumbass.”

Blowing air out in manner that all but screamed, ‘ _duh_ ’, Jean sat up. “I know _that_. But if anyone asks… I’m not here and never was, yeah?”

Barely thinking that over, Connie nodded, staring at his friend through the dark. “‘Kay.”

“Thanks, buddy. And if, ah, anyone calls or texts-”

“Not here, I know.”

“No, don’t give them my number.”

There was a thoughtful silence, but Connie didn’t press it. “Alright.”

“Thank you.”

“No problem.”

As he finally let him leave, Jean laid back down, listening to Connie tell his girlfriend in the other room that Jean was gonna stay with them for a while before he plugged in his ear buds and let _Three Days Grace_ sooth him to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AGAIN:
> 
> I'm tracking those 'fic: tsgd' or 'fic: the sun's going down' tags on tumblr for any comments/artwork/whatever else and my tumblr is the same as my ao3, overmyfreckledbody. On there is a strictly snk blog where I reblog mostly JeanMarco.
> 
> Feel free to send anon notes or follow.


	4. Hyenas are Not to be Messed With

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Marco figures some shit out, Springles is important, Sasha is wise, and Jean deals.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so my writing stopper has been unplugged and i think im gonna be alright
> 
> and what??? is this plot? well never know  
> so something that looks like plot but were unsure of + bad chip puns  
> thats what youre looking forward to
> 
> also
> 
> i have no excuse for what happens here  
> enjoyyy! *smiles and slowly slinks away*

After the incident with Jean and Armin- which he had no business throwing around his opinions, so he tried not to think about it- in his living room, Marco began to run into problems with his… Situation. Getting used to being a Vampire was not going to be _easy_ , Marco knew, but he did not expect it to be like this either. Everything was happening at once, new, little things he had to get used to, and it was more than Marco thought he would have to handle. Because in the beginning week or two, there were only the somewhat heightened senses (though that was off and on) and need for blood instead of human food. Now, however, there was a growing list of _problems_ that he had to face.

 

For starters, his sleep schedule was completely out of whack. Granted, he probably did not necessarily _need_ to sleep and he was always just so numb with everything going on that he did not really feel tired, but routine was still safe and comfortable. It was making his work harder, along with school, but at the moment his mental state was a wreck, swirling with thoughts and replaying scenes of the recent events, stumbling down the path of ‘ _oh shit, this is really happening_ ’. It was enough to force him into bed to try and fix everything he could not and simultaneously keep him up, tearing down all those efforts. Yet, again and again Marco kept falling into his cheap bed and wishing he could hold his eyelids down just long enough to fall out of consciousness.

 

He was also beginning to get random bursts of hunger, specifically during his night job, which were very hard to control sometimes. Especially when he was just trying to push a pricey object onto a shelf (that would just slip out of his shaky fingers instead, sometimes knocking off a couple other items), or when he was standing next to another employee and their neck just started to look so overwhelmingly delicious that he would end up excusing himself to go to the bathroom, panting against one of the sinks. Marco’s boss even questioned him, wondering if he had started drugs or was having withdrawals and it was all he could do to mumble half-heartedly he was having problems with his cold turkey cigarette charade. It was either that or getting a suspicious higher up forcing him to take a drug test and wondering why he would not “be able” to return back with a cup of urine.

 

Marco still did not really have control of his other tracks. No food for him yet.

 

The amount of his superhero strength that was beginning to come in was getting a little irritating as well, Marco soon learned. It was found to be very annoying when all Marco wanted to do lightly toss his remote on the couch, only for it to bounce back up at an incredible height and smack him in the damn face. He found it easy to deduce that he had thrown it too hard, but when he had somehow knocked over a chair with just a pillow sometime after that, it began to look less than coincidental. Especially when he broke one of his glasses, by accidentally pushing it too hard against the bottom of the sink. Great.

 

Deciding to visit Hanji, talk to them about it, Marco sighed as he tugged on some pants, pausing when a thought came to him. Did they say no gender? Or was it both? It seemed he would have to ask.

 

* * *

 

 

Late into the afternoon, Marco arrived at the office, opening the sliding glass doors to reveal the wooden floor and beige, peeling wallpapers of the lobby. There, scribbling away madly on a piece of paper at the desk that sat in the middle of the back of the room, was just the person he was looking for. They did not even look up at his footsteps, but the scrawling did slow, becoming less concentrated, the width between each letter getting wider with each second. Collapsing into on of the hard seats directly in front of their desk, Marco cleared his throat, glancing at the nametag on the desk. _Mx. Hanji._ There was no way he could pronounce that, “Uh, Dr. Hanji?”

 

They laughed, continuing to scribble as they spoke, the writing quickening again, “I’m no doctor, Vampy. If I was, it’d be on my tag.”

 

“Yeah.. How do you say that?” Marco asked, hoping his voice sounded more like he was trying for- curious, not intrusive.

 

They looked up from their work at him quizzically before breaking into an insane grin that made Marco shiver on the spot. Fingers, the color of a pear, long and calloused, brushed lightly along the top of the desk plate as the grin fizzled into a soft smile, “Mx… It’s pronounced either like the word ‘mix’ or ‘mux’ depending on whichever way you want to say it. It’s for people who don’t have a noun to fit their gender, instead of girl or boy- mx. For all the noncisgenders out there.”

 

Nodding, Marco bit his lip. He did not know the last word, “Noncisgenders…?”

 

“Oh, boy, you’re new to all of this, aren’t you?” Hanji asked, voice soft and sweet, teetering on the edge of full blown _teasing_. Immediately, Marco felt inferior.

 

“K-Kinda, yeah.”

 

“ _Perfect._ ” The petite hiss of the word was all Marco got as a warning before he was thrust into the abyss that was known as ‘the gender spectrum’.

 

* * *

 

 

“You know what I think we should do?” Sasha asked, mouthful of chips spewing crumbs everywhere in a way that only Jean seemed to grimace at. They were all sitting on ‘Springles’ couch, (a name that Jean had picked for it after walking out of the shower and finding Sasha shirtless on top of Connie, a can of discarded pringles cast on the burgundy carpet, Connie leaning up originally for a kiss, only to instead glance at Jean and mutter, “You need to take slower showers, dude, or we’re going to have some issues. I’m not loosing sex because of you.”) trying to figure a plan for the afternoon, seeing that Sasha could not pass up the opportunity of Jean staying here and the three of them were getting a little stir crazy. Sure, the two of the apartment owners had jobs- Jean technically did as well, but he was still getting time off for that one- but with the new addition to the ‘family’, they desperately wanted out of the house and to be doing something.

 

“Whatcha thinkin’, babe?” Baldy replied back, reaching for a swipe of her food, only to be swatted at. He scowled at her, other hand extending behind him to smack at Jean when he started to snicker.

 

“Don’t touch my fucking Lays, you pissy brat.” She grumbled, dropping a handful into his lap anyway before continuing ( _True love_ , Jean declared to himself), “We should go to the zoo, or some shit.”

 

Huffing, Jean kicked at the bag laying at his feet, “Sash, let’s be real, how damn high are you right now?”

 

Turning on him, she narrowed his eyes, making both boys gulp- Sasha was not one to be pissed off, “ _What_ , Jean? Do you have a _problem_ with the zoo?”

 

Sucking the flesh of skin beneath his lower lip into his mouth, which in turn forced his teeth to rest on its pink interior, he shook his head, avoiding her gaze like it was a tripwire between him and his prize. “It’s not that, though that does sound kinda lame, I just meant the ‘some shit’ part. What’s up with that? You pretty much only talk like that when you’re off your intoxicated ass.”

 

“Maybe it’s just ‘cause I’m,” an arm shot into his vision, forcing him to look up and at the bag of chips shaking in his face, “ _Laysd_ back.”

 

Groaning loudly to try and make his disapproval known over Sasha’s harsh cackling and Connie’s snorts- which, strangely, made them laugh harder- Jean dug his palms into his eyelids, only succeeding in creating purple and green spots when he dropped his wrists back down again. “Ugh”, he moaned, elbowing Connie who only fell over onto his girlfriend, “Yeah, let’s go to the zoo, but only if you pigs stop your goddamn happy noises.”

 

They stopped their chuckles, but the room was soon filled with a different source of noise- oinking, _just like the fucking farm animals they were_.

 

Jean, however, did not participate. Not even once.

 

But if anyone asked the couple when he was not in the room, they would disagree so _very_ quickly, with lots unhindered guffawing.

 

* * *

 

 

“So, a cisgender person is a person whose gender matches their sex, like a boy who feels like a boy, feels comfortable in his body all the time, and he wants people to call him he, or him.” Hanji began, words shooting off like a horse at the sound of a gunshot. Marco was lost already.

 

He cut them off before they could add on anything else confusing, “Wait, wait, I thought gender and sex were the same thing.”

 

Stopping their monologue momentarily, they look a moment to stare at him incredulously, not with an expression of ‘ _Are you fucking stupid?_ ’, but more of ‘ _I have lots to teach you, young grasshopper_ ’. Then they smiled again, eyes blazing with a chance to ramble without interruption behind those foggy goggles, “Sex is the layout of your body. It’s not always what you’re born with- since people can and do get surgeries to match their gender- but your sex isn’t always your gender.”

 

The continued to mumble on, loud enough that Marco could barely understand them, but soft enough that it kept him swept along with their words, clinging to each drip of a syllable like a child to a bedtime tale. “However, your gender is more of how you think, how you feel, what you want people to address you as, and mostly, what you are most comfortable calling yourself. Though,” They paused, stopping their word flow not to take a breath- _what had they been running on this whole time if not air?_ \- but to lean forward with a lecherous smirk, “Just because a person’s gender is not their sex, it does not mean they are uncomfortable with their bodies.” Even if all of this was kind of hard to follow, Marco nodded like he understood- he kind of did, but only a little- mostly because he wanted Hanji to go on. This was very interesting, maybe more so since they seemed to be very excited about this particular topic.

 

“ _Now_ , there are different _types_ of genders, just as there are different types of sexes. If you have a penis, your sex is male. If you have a vagina, your sex is female. There are also people who have both, but they aren’t usually common. Like your sex, your gender can be male or female, but they are also things like _neither_ or _both_. Pretty cool, huh?”

 

“Oh, yeah- yeah! But, er, how does someone feel like both…? Or neither?” Marco asked. He had heard of trans people, but they, in actuality, above the age of twenty or something, were rare. But this, both- neither- he had never heard of.

 

“Well, let’s begin with this. You’ve heard of the whole- ‘put yourself in a trans person’s place- imagine being a girl and thinking the way you do, but in a female body- or think of wanting to be a girl’, before, right?” They asked, watching with those curious, intelligent eyes, using quotations on their fingers for their title of the ‘social experiment’.

 

Eyebrows creasing, Marco nodded once again, reaching up to rub his nose, “Yeah, but I ne-”  
  


“Good. Now forget about it.”

 

“Huh?” Why remind him just to tell him forget about it? Hanji was confusing the shit out of him.

 

“Forget about all of that bullshit.”  
  
“O-Okay…” Marco scratched at his upper lip, eyelashes bouncing as he narrowed his eyes, widened them, and squinted again in confusion, unable to understand a single thing anymore.

 

“Being trans is more like… You knowing that you are a man... You know you are, but everyone else thinks you are a woman for some reason and you have to try and convince them otherwise, but often times they don’t believe you.”  
  
Oh. That actually… Kind of made sense.

 

As Marco leaned back into his wooden chair to think about that, imagine what it would be like, staring at the little, black, engraved name plate, Hanji did as well, staring at Marco, observing him think. They watched his quirks, the way he would tug at his lip when he was in thought, pulling the corner of it out only to release it- just to tug at it again. His gaze would slide along the room, not in a way that was glazed over, like he had not a single thought in his head, but not like he was focusing or taking any of it in either. It just kind of moved off everything, the tall bookshelves that hung along the walls, the cheap, old, blue plush couches, the muddy footprints that Hanji was thankful that Levi had not seen yet- everything.

 

It was several minutes before Marco said anything, but that did not surprise Hanji in the least, “So… Both? What’s that like?”

 

* * *

 

 

The second the trio was out of Connie and Sasha’s shared gray _Lancer_ , both halves of the couple pushed up against his sides, mischievous and scary glints in their eyes. Wary, Jean looked down at them, opening his mouth to ask just what the hell they were planning, but he was interrupted by the idiots putting their seemingly telepathic plan into action and grabbing his hands with such tight, cruel grips that he could only conclude they were not indeed as human as they claimed to be on their medical papers. Hissing, he tried to wring himself out of their grasps, but it was no use. He was stuck, “Damn it, Springles! Let go of me.” His tone was defeated already, but was mandatory for him to say anyway. Part of the ‘I’m a whiny piece of shit who is never actually in a positive mood’ code. Jean was the king of that club.

 

It was nice, however, that they would hold his hands, occasionally bump into his shoulders on purpose, grinning at his sighs that they knew were actually happy. Since the incident at Freckled-What’s-His-Face’s with Armin, Jean had especially been craving some touch in incredible amounts. He was glad he had picked these two dweebs to stay with, because one, even if they did not want him around anymore, they would keep him as long as he needed to be there. Two, they knew him in ways a lot of people could not- Sasha picked out the more social, peoplely things about him, being that she herself was a graceful, talkative butterfly, and Connie, vigilant from monster hunting, understood everything else. Between the two, Jean felt the most at ease, comfortable. Three, they did not try to act different around him, despite (yet only briefly) knowing the situation. They would not, not for a moment, ease up on all of their coupley antics, thankfully not making the air awkward by doing so. Four, they gave him all the physical, mental, and verbal attention he needed, usually without even asking. They just knew.

 

As they waited to cross the street from the parking lot to the zoo entrance- it was busy today, lots of school buses and families- Sasha stood on her tip toes and gave Jean an unflattering, loud, and squelching kiss on the cheek. Without missing a beat, she cheerfully grinned in explanation and chirped, “Give Connie that kiss for me!”  
  
“Ack- gross, no way.” Jean spluttered, reaching up to wipe the drying saliva off his cheek, but when the _insane_ woman’s hand, clasped in his own, drug up as well, he got a better idea. Might as well use the back of _her_ hand. Serves that asshat right.

 

If the spit on her wrist and knuckles fazed her, even slightly, Sasha did not show it, “Oh, yes. You’re going to kiss Connie or else you have to stand out here without a ticket.” With that said, the she-demon disguised as a pretty girl used her free, untwined fingers to deftly snatch his wallet out of his back pocket with a maniacal laugh, “Now kiss.”

 

Why was Connie okay with all of this?

 

“I’ll just walk. It’s like, a thirty minute jog from here.” Sassed back Jean, glaring down at her through thin lashes. “I’m in shape, you know.”

 

“Oh, don’t I know it.” She murmured, eyes flitting up and down his torso, between his biceps that strained against the tight material of his shirt.

 

Connie, at this point, apparently came back to life and stepped around the front of Jean, giving her a look that clearly stated, ‘What the fuck?’ Her eyes instantly shot over to him, giving him the _full body scan_ several times, a pink tongue poking out to sweep over her lips, “But Con’s _really_ in shape. Believe me, I know.” That satisfied him, judging by the smug smirk playing on his lips.

 

“Ew.” Jean stated distastefully.

 

Sasha glared at him for a moment, two, before turning back to Connie and making a show of doing some weird thing with her lip at her boyfriend. Biting it lightly before pushing it out of her teeth and thrusting it out further than natural. Then she winked at him. _God, what the fuck?_

 

“The zoo is going to close before you two even think about finishing your eye fucking.” The werewolf droned, same tone as before.

 

“Then you best get kissing.” Sasha quipped, looking back up at the tallest of the group, “Quick, before I make it on the lips.”

 

Jean visibly, perhaps purposefully as well, flinched and Connie swiftly puffed out his chest in retort, “I am _not_ agreeing to that!”

 

“I, for once, stand with Shortie on this one.” Jean muttered, waiting for Sasha’s reaction. The tension in her silence was starting to get to him, but he would be damned if he let anyone know that.

 

Wallet still tightly wrapped in skinny fingers, the woman in control thrust her hand onto her hip, cocked her head to the side, and gave Connie a stare that even Jean was affected by. Her eyebrows were furrowed and she was frowning as well, just slightly, as to say carefully, slowly, and with much articulation, ‘What was that?’

 

Connie said nothing and Jean waited with bated breath.

 

 _Someone’s not getting laid tonight._ Jean was grinning now-

 

“Fucking kiss me, you greasy louse.” Connie snarled, amazingly not breaking eye contact with his girlfriend yet, who was still staring carefully, as if changing facial expressions would lose the effect of her glare. Probably not. She would still scare the shit out of both of them in a dress made of fruitcake with a cheesy smile on her face.

 

Jean balked, “What? No! No way! I’d rather-”

 

“Doesn’t damn matter!” Connie barked, squeezing Jean’s palm even harder than before. “If you don’t kiss me right here and now, I’m going to shove your hand down a food disposal the first second I get!”

 

Wide eyed and slightly awed, Jean leaned forward to kiss the top of Connie’s head, hesitating as he noticed a passerby watching in curiosity. Fucking tourists. Everyone else would be used to the gay in this town. Sasha cleared her throat, which spurred him on more than Connie’s threat did, and he briskly pecked the skin before pulling away quickly and spitting on the ground. Sasha hummed in amusement, grinning triumphantly, and Connie sighed in relief, eyelids sliding shut as he began to rub furiously at the spot Jean’s lips made contact.

 

“Alright you big babies! Let’s go to the _zoo_!”

 

* * *

 

 

After a fierce conversation about genderfluids, agenders, neithers, and inbetweeners, Marco was finally left without any more questions. Well, about that topic, that is. Having learned that trying to figure out Hanji’s sex was rude, especially if- he did not actually do this, but- he were to pester them about it, repeatedly asking, but Marco just let the topic drop in his head. It was not a single bit important.  

 

It was like seeing a blonde with brunette roots, Hanji had explained, what was the point of trying to point out that people knew they were really a brunette? They wanted to be a blonde and spent all their time and effort into that change, so why tell them that they are not doing a good enough job? Though that was more of a watered down version, they warned, but otherwise, he understood. He got the gist of what he needed to.

 

A thick silence settled in the air, wrapping around the two similar a blanket. It rippled, not quite being interrupted, but tensing like a coiled spring that was only being pulled thinner, with each twitch or fidget from Marco’s sitting form. It was obvious he wanted to say something, but he still held his breath.

 

Finally, Hanji broke it with a clean, calm stroke, “You seem to have something on your mind. There was something that you came here for originally, right? I mean, I doubt you planned to ask about my tagline when you stopped by.”

 

“Well, actually, no. I- I mean,” He paused, scratching at the back of his neck as his eyes flitted around the room, to anything that was not sitting right in front of him, staring at him intently, “You’re right. I only noticed it when I walked in…”

 

They only raised their eyebrows in a small, silent prompt to get Marco to talk.

 

“So, my, um, problems. You know, about being a Vampire? The bloodsucking and super strength?” It was clunky and awkward, but Marco finally changed the topic. Hanji nodded in response. “It’s… It’s getting worse.”

 

“I see…”

 

 

* * *

 

 

The three of them had been walking around for the past twenty minutes, Connie and Sasha cooing at the cute animals, ahhing at the others. Jean had been lost in his thoughts when, while buying tickets at the register stand, noticed a bob of shiny, blonde hair. Throat tightening up, he had to count his change twice before he looked over again and noticed that the shortie he had noticed was actually a girl, accompanied by a dangerous face with brunette hair pulled back sloppily. Whoever the Armin impersonator was, her girlfriend did not seem to appreciate the staring.

 

Again with memories of blue eyes and anxious, forced smiles, Jean was quiet, this time somehow not distracted by the loud voices of his friends. They probably did notice, however, (this guess confirmed by their occasional squeeze of Jean’s palms, reminding him to stop staring at the sign he was pretending to read for what was most likely too long a time). It was obvious that they knew he was out of it, but it was just as clear that they knew he wanted to be here- in this black hole in his heart- rather than the other times he had been sucked in. It takes a little suffering to heal, like having a broken arm heal back stronger than before, and Jean needed this.

 

So, Sasha and Connie left him be. For now, that is, or until he wanted to talk and joke with them again. They continued to subtly push him into remembering their presence beside him. Just in case.

 

 

* * *

 

 

After rather _needless_ imitations of monkeys in front of the orangutans’ exhibit, Jean was finally full of his Springles quota and even that was beginning to overflow. Deciding on an idea, he needed a break from the total _imbeciles_ , he cleared his throat, thankfully interrupting their monkey dance. “I’m getting kind of thirsty, guys, and I want to go get something from the shop… Which would mean you would have to let go of my hands.”

 

“Thirsty, eh?” Sasha immediately snickered, reaching behind Jean to nudge Connie, who in turn, laughed out a response as well, “Thirsty for the…” He trailed off, a frown creasing his brows with a curse.

 

Who was there really to tease Jean about liking anymore? If Connie had continued with what he had planned, “Blondie”, he would be treading on dangerous, unstable land. And Jean did not seem to have anyone else on the romantic quadrant of his mind, either.

 

Beginning to scowl, Jean opened his mouth to give an ugly retort, but Sasha recovered and bounced back before he could get a single word out. “Hey… Jeanny, meet any cuties lately?”

 

He knew this route. No matter what he tried to say, Sasha would find a way to wheedle something out of him, even if he had to make it up. Still, he chose the harder path for his own suffering. “Don’t think so, no.”

 

“What about that new guy Eren-” Jean bit his tongue at the mention, unable to clench his fist, “-was talking about? You met him. Wasn’t he cute?” Connie, piped up, honey eyes hooded lazily. Fuck him.

 

“Not really.” Jean attempted to roll off his tongue easily. It got out just fine, but of course, she caught that bare waiver of hesitation. Freckled Guy was more… Attractive, than just ‘cute’. Armin was- _is_ \- cute. Freckles, he was different. _I haven’t thought about him in a while though..._

 

“‘Not really’, huh?” Sasha questioned, popping up right in front of his face, nose to nose as she searched his eyes, “Why can’t I believe that?”

 

“Because you’re a gossip whore.” He snipped back, trying to put inches between their faces.

 

“Maybe I am, but you know what that means?” She whispered, the corners of her lips twitching upwards.

 

Lowering his gaze to his feet, he silently gave in. “That you’re gonna get something out of me anyway…?” Jean breathed, partly in question, partly in defeat, the words practically falling onto his own neck.

 

“Bingo!”

 

Silence filled bubble the three of them created for themselves and Sasha stepped back. Gave him some space to breathe, even if what he was about to say was not too important to him. He appreciated it.

 

“I guess he was kind of attractive… Caught my eye, but I didn’t really pay him any mind.” He confessed with an attempted shrug. Holding hands kind of makes his arms heavy, Jean learned.

 

Humming with consideration, Sasha thought about his answer. However, before he would let her jump to any conclusions or ideas, he tugged at their hands again. “Seriously guys, I need a little break.” Jean turned to watch Sasha, “If I buy you something, will you let me go alone?”

 

As expected, the brunette's brown orbs lit up, almost sparkling as she nodded, head bobbing up and down with the action. Satisfied with that answer, he turned instead to Connie as Sasha continued to bounce happily beside him. "Do you want anything?"

 

Surprisingly, he just shook his head and let go of Jean's hand. "Nah, I'm good."

 

"You sure?" Jean asked, curling his fingers and unfurling them, trying to regain feeling.

 

Connie shrugged and Jean looked back at Sasha to see what she wanted as he licked his lips. She babbled out her request and waved him off goodbye, telling him that they'll probably be at the lions by the time he got their drinks. Nodding, he raised his hand in goodbye as well, immediately beginning his walk to where he remembered the nearest map of the zoo was. Thank god for his trained instincts kicking in and subconsciously scoping out the place.

 

Standing next to the tall monument, he grabbed one of the less confusing pamphlets. It's easier to memorize those than the huge sign with the big 'you are here!' sticker on it. It seemed the closest food place was a few minutes walk anyway, so he started on the path, dodging pedestrians as he pulled out his phone. He knew the full moon was coming up soon- he could feel it- but he was not one hundred percent sure when exactly it was.

 

"Ah, not the day after tomorrow, but the next." Jean sighed to himself. He already had taken all his vacation days off, so he knew he was going to be free of work... He would probably have to go home instead of moping at Springles', as well. They might not be too pleased with having to chain down a fucking bigass wolf thing. Connie had seen him before in that form, but that was not a memory either of them liked to dwell on.

 

As he closed the calendar application, he paused, stepping to the side and looking up as he heard voices that sounded awfully… Suspicious. He waited for them to talk again before looking around for the source. They spoke, tendrils of cruel words whispering through the chatter of the zoo and falling upon his ears. They had to be back by the monkeys then.

 

“...a family reunion?”

  
  
“What-? Um, no?”

 

“I think _it’s_ a family reunion. It’s so…” The anonymous speaker drew in a lingering breath, as if searching for the right word. “Touching. Doesn’t anyone have a camera?”

 

By this point, Jean could see them: a taller boy (in a rather ugly, yellow shirt, Jean might add) and a girl leaning uncomfortably close to another boy who held a large sketchpad between his shaking hands. He was definitely nervous and did not want to be around the two, but with the way they seemed to be closing in on him, it looked like he could not move. Taking all of this into consideration, he decided to help.

 

The girl spoke this time, voice not high, but still grating, “Hey… Does your mom still pick out your lice?” She then picked at his hair as he attempted to swat at her hands, blushing and clearly embarrassed, “Or can you do that yourself now?”

 

 _What a bitch_ , Jean thought to himself as he was about to step into speaking distance. However, before he could say anything, a man in a striped suit jumped in front of him and immediately began getting onto the trouble making pair, asking the sketch boy if they were bothering him. To Jean’s surprise- and what he guessed to be the principle’s- the quivering boy glanced fearfully between the two and shook his head. He defended his bullies.

 

Hesitantly, the man of authority took in a puff of air and soon left with a ‘threatening’ warning to pair. The three of them were quiet for about a minute, before taller male clapped a hand on the victim’s shoulder, “ _You_ …” He flinched. “Came in big time.” The boy smiled dubiously and sighed in relief.

 

“Way to go, Bryan.” She spoke slowly, enunciating her words with small slaps on his back.

 

“Yeah,” The other boy spoke up again, and Bryan’s attention snapped back to him, “Principal Quinn’s been lookin’ for reasons to ride our asses.”

 

“A-Ah, it’s okay.”

 

Even if Jean was not too sure about this sudden friendship they had developed, he decided that maybe it would be alright if he just left it alone. Bryan did not seem to be in too much trouble anymore…

 

“Come on, we’re going to check out the hyena house.”

 

“But I think it’s off limits!” _That_ piqued Jean’s attention again. He glanced at his map. it was indeed, off limits.

 

“And there in, my friend, lies the fun.” Maybe he _should_ keep an eye on them. Just for poor Bryan’s sake.

 

* * *

 

 

“So, how do you think Jean is coping?” Connie asked, glancing occasionally at his girlfriend. He had already formed his opinions on this, thinking from different angles on how Jean was really, truly feeling. As bad as that all sounds. He was just worried.

 

With a light shrug, Sasha pulled her nail- which had just been picking at her one uneven tooth- out of her mouth, “Better than he thinks he is.”

 

“Whaddya mean?”  
  
“Well…” Drawled Sasha, “Sometimes he’s a really good actor, right? He can lie to a lot of people. Do you ever think that he could maybe end up tricking himself? See, Jean hasn’t really been interested in anybody in a while. At least, not for real, ya know? _So_ , he might have had _more_ interest in Armin and suddenly decided to crush on him. I think it was one of those, ‘I have nothing to do and you’re cute so I’m going to learn stuff about you and wonder what it’d be like to date’ types of things… Like, he was bored. You know he gets bored a lot. Then he just… Ran with it, accidentally.”

 

“Are you saying you think his feelings for Blondie aren’t real?” Connie asked, keeping his face straight and not daring a look in her direction. She balked.

 

“No, that’s not what I’m saying. I think he just exaggerated those feelings a little. Hell, for all we know, he might actually love the dude.”

 

Connie’s nose scrunched up in slight disapproval, “I don’t thin-”

 

“Speaking of Jeanbo…” She pointed to the other fork in the lane, the one they were not using. It lead to the hyena house and the giraffes. “What’s he doin’ over there? Sneaking in with the hyenas?”

 

“Are you sure it’s Jean?” Asked Connie before he, too, turned to see a two-toned head of hair duck under the caution tape. “Damn.”

 

“That doesn’t look like something he should be doing.” Sasha mumbled, already walking towards him.

 

“Nope.” He agreed, trudging along beside her. “We should probably check on him.”

  
  
She nodded, “Wouldn’t want him hurting himself.”

 

“Doing the dumb shit he usually does when we’re not around.”

 

She mock sighed, despite the smile on her face that she shared with her lover, “God, he’s so taxing.”

  
  
“Don’t I know it.” He lifted the yellow tape up and just as Sasha was about to slide under, a sudden voice jumped from around the corner, startling them back onto pavement.

 

They looked to see a man with whitened hair and a beard to match, face aged, and in beige, collared clothes, “Hey! Hey, are you two blind, or just illiterate?”

 

They shared a look. _Guess Jean’ll just have to figure out whatever he was doing on his own…_

 

* * *

 

 

Just as he had stepped into the large room, doing a quick sweep of the room and its bizarre floor pattern (a huge circle, broken by a dot, wavy lines, another dot, then connected again with a oldish style of a dog head painted in the middle, all in red spray paint), he noticed the three he was following at the back with the hyena cage. It was a ledge over the hyenas, with tall bars separating them. Immediately Bryan was shoved up against the bars, the boy who had pushed him and was holding his head over the top, cackling maliciously while the girl giggled as well, “You’re right! It _does_ look hungry!”

 

Jean was up the steps in seconds, ripping Bryan away from the brutes, “Hey, why don’t you pick on one of your own species?”

 

The boy, admittedly a little irritated, sized him up, “What, are _you_ going to get in my face?” Then, almost pointedly, looked at the hyena below them.

 

That pissed him off. He knocked the boy and the girl back, leaving them to stumble off the stairs and just out of the eerie, tribal symbol. Huffing, he suddenly felt a strange urge and looked back at the dog as it sat and stared passively at him. It’s eyes glinted, almost gold, and he sensed a surge of power go through him, tingling even the tips of his fingers. It was almost like the feeling when he was shifting, where he took in all of that control and strength, right before he lost his mind to the wolf.

 

But this time, he stayed human.

 

Human and still sane.

 

It felt _great_.

 

* * *

 

 

“I got your pineapple strawberry smoothie.” Jean spoke up behind Sasha and Connie, making them jump and turn around to look at him. His eyes were hooded and he looked more bored than before as he took a large gulp from the cup that had, in sharp, very legible writing, ‘ _Pineapple Strawberry_ ’. Sasha’s eyebrow twitched- his cup was literally in his other hand and obviously still full.

 

“What did you get for yourself?” She asked cautiously, like a snake waiting to strike. Waiting for a crack in the defence.

 

With a flashed smirk, Jean looked down at _his_ cup, the one he did _not_ just drink from, “Looks like… Banana coconut.”

 

“Then why are you drinking from mine?”

 

“Because I paid for it.” He spoke slower than before, as if talking to a child that could not comprehend the situation.

 

“Jean, you know I hate it when I share drinks with people. I can’t stand the backwash.”

 

“I know.”

 

“Then why are you being such an _asshole_?” Piped up Connie, shoulders tense already. He knew it was Sasha’s ‘fight’ (if it could be called that), but damn it, he was getting angry as well.

 

He turned to Connie slowly, expression changing from uninterested to a little ticked off. Lifting Sasha’s smoothie up to his mouth, he bit into the plastic lid and pulled it off, spitting it into the grass. From that, as the two watched, confused, he poured the drink out, light pink gloop splattering on the ground. “How so, Baldy?”

 

“What the _hell_ , Jean?” Spluttered Sasha as her fingers curled in on themselves, voice getting louder and higher in pitch. Connie’s eye twitched, twice.

 

The male in question smiled slyly, opened his own lid, and while keeping eye contact with the both of them, spit into his own drink before looking over at Sasha, “Still thirsty? You can have mine.”

 

“You son of a _bitch_.” Connie whispered.

 

Turning away from the both of them, he dropped Sasha’s empty cup atop the pile of her once was drink, and stepped forward. “I’ll take that as a ‘no’. Well,” He waved, almost sarcastically, behind him, “Later. The zoo’s getting a bit boring for my taste. Don’t wait up.”

 

And he left.

 

* * *

  


"Here..." Started Connie as he grabbed Sasha's hand and tugged her along, narrowly avoiding the mess Jean had left behind, "I'll buy you a new one..."

 

So, they trudged along in silence, holding hands, but not nearly as tightly as before when they had squeezed the life out of Jean's palms. It was a silent, mutual agreement to try not to think of him.

 

Neither of the two had a clue as to what caused his mood. This... Was not like Jean. He was a jerk sometimes, true, and teased for being an asshole, but never was one truly outright. In fact, Sasha often found and claimed him to be a sweetie, him offering to buy her a drink only serving you be proof of this (even if he did pour it in the grass). So, this whole sudden mood change seemed off to them.

 

He was grieving over the loss of a friendship and potential (not really) relationship, but to suddenly be malicious was not like Jean.

 

This was the constant swirl in their thoughts as they walked around, forgotten animals seemingly gray and dull.

 

 

* * *

 

 

It was not long at all before they returned home again, sour mood still clinging to them. It was only half an hour after Jean left, but Sasha and Connie saw no point in being there anymore. They came to spend time with _him_. Since he had disappeared, leaving them to corrupted whispers in their heads, the zoo was bleak to them, void of color and joy. Even the excited teenagers did nothing to improve their moods.

 

Despite everything that happened, they expected Jean to be there when they got back. ' _T Made sense_ , Connie thought dully to himself after he had checked around the house. _It's not like he would wait around to apologize to us. Especially after what happened._

 

However, when they did check everything, both Jean and his belongings were gone. Yet, not a single thing of theirs was missing or out of place. Even the crumbs on the table were fine where they were.

 

Not long after that, Armin called, surprising both of them with the sudden ring. Connie answered, and the panic in the male over the connection's voice made him put it on speaker so Sasha could hear his concern, too.

 

"Hey guys, sorry for the sudden call..."

 

Connie answered, seeing that Sasha was just staring at the phone in anticipation and the blonde on the other end was probably only expecting him anyway, "It's no problem, Armin. What's up? You sound distressed."

 

"Yeah, um, about that... Well, first, have you seen Jean lately?"

 

Sasha and Connie exchanged a look. She gave him permission to say what he wanted to answer with. It would be for Jean's good in the end, either way."Well, maybe a little less than an hour ago... He's been staying with us. Why? Did something happen?"

 

"He- He came over and- w-wait-" There was then some yelling in the background that Connie knew belonged to Eren, but he could not- for the life of him- make out what he was saying.

 

"I'm gonna have to call you back," The petite male's voice came through, sometime later, out of breath, "Ring me up if you see Jean. I'm going to go talk to Levi and Hanji before Eren hurts himself."

 

This was beginning to get out of control. "Uh, A-"

 

Armin ignored his hesitation to hang up and did it himself, "Bye Connie!"

 

The line went dead with a soft click and an even quieter, "Something happened in that hyena house."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, there's TWO (and a half) missing scenes. They'll be in Chapter 5. I think I am going to go rename all the chapters some 'witty' things.  
> I have no idea when that's coming out btw  
> If I got the gender info wrong, please, please, please tell me and how I could fix it. I don't want to offend ANYONE. 
> 
> ALSO  
> I am doing the JeanMarco Week 2015. Feel free to check those out if you want. I'm trying to make them cuter than most of my stuff.
> 
> My tumblr is, as always, available where you can ask comments/yell at me/whatever you want at Overmyfreckledbody.tumblr.com . It's my user on here, but in tumblr. *shrugs*
> 
> I track the tags 'overmyfreckledbody' , 'fic: tsgd' , and 'fic: the sun's going down' . 
> 
> See you on tumblr, in the comments, or just next time!  
> (if there is a next time)  
> (just kidding)  
> (maybe)


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